The Thin Line Between Hate and Love
by VikkkieS
Summary: Ron's dead and he has left Hermione and her kids only debts. With Harry's help, they end up living in Malfoy Manor. But Hermione has secrets- is Draco the only one who can discover what they are?
1. Chapter 1: Hate

**Hi. This is my first Dramione fanfic, so please be merciful... **

**It takes place after the War, after the seventh book even with the epilogue and everything. Actually, not with the epilogue, a few years before the epilogue, and now, thinking about it, the epilogue would be different after my story... To sum it up: Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ron and everyone in their year are 31; Ginny's 30; Rose, Scorpius and Albus are 6; Hugo and Lily are 4 and James is 7 years old. So just to make that clear. **

**This fanfic was created for two reasons: first, because one of my very very good friends wanted it (she also writes very good Dramione fanfiction) and second, because quite a large number (I'm not saying all because I have read at least one in which case it wasn't true) of Dramione fanfics start with Draco and Hermione being secretly in love with each other. Which I think is absolute... not to say it badly... nonsense. I think they really hated each other at least in the books. So that's what this story is going to be about. The thin and very blurry line that sometimes exists between hate and love. So enjoy and please REVIEW! (and btw, it is certainly NOT one-shot, I'm counting at least 4 chapters if I finish it, but probably more.) And sorry for the fairly short first chapter.**

He had always hated her. He couldn't even convince himself that there had been some sparks flying between them. Ever. He had always despised the sight of her brown curling hair when they showed up near him in the corridors of Hogwarts. He knew it was the way he was brought up that made him hate her, but he couldn't just forget that deep-rooted hate. It wasn't only the fact that she was a Mudblood; it was also the fact that she was a know-it-all, her tone when she was lecturing someone, her general sense of superiority, like she was god-knows-who when she was one of the best friends of the famous Harry Potter. Oh yes, one more thing, he almost forgot. And the fact _that she was one of the best friends of Harry Potter._

It wasn't like she ever did anything that would encourage him to like her. It was her who slapped him, who called him a ferret and other insults at every possible occasion and her eyes only ever showed hate when they landed on him. Not that he could blame her. Despite his hate for her, he could acknowledge the fact that she _had_ things to hate him for. He knew well enough how much she cared about both her companions and he didn't miss one occasion to throw an insulting remark on one or the other, both in the best case. Actually, he always got quite surprised by her reaction. She got angrier when he insulted Potter or Weasley than when he insulted her. He knew he himself would never be able to love someone so deeply, or not really, he could always pretend he did. Then again there was the question of their upbringing, he being brought up to know that he was superior to the others and she, most probably, to love everyone around her. At least he could still say that to himself. Even in the worst situations in life, he could still look at himself and his surroundings objectively, and that was something that would assure him and that made him proud. Not that many people knew about this skill of his.

And yet now he was afraid that he was losing his ground quickly. How did it happen that one of his three arch enemies was just a few walls away from him sleeping soundly? How did that happen to him? How _could _that happen to him? Was it possible that he, Draco Malfoy, was suddenly afraid of a future that he had no way of controlling? There was only one possible answer to his last question.


	2. Chapter 2: Love

One moment, two places, two funerals, 5 lost loves.

Two dark figures were towering over the small tombstone that was perched up in the wet grass. Raindrops were calmly falling on them but neither seemed to mind. It was just that kind of day. The sky was grey and it had been raining all day but there was a read haze in the sky over the far west where the sun was setting. The smaller figure whimpered quietly and the taller man clasped him closer. He had never really loved her when he thought about it. It was never meant as a marriage of love for sure, just a marriage of good relations, social status, money and of course, pure-bloodedness. Not that it really mattered to him after the War. It did matter to his parents though and since he had no better girlfriends of his own to put forward, he at last agreed in marrying her. Not that it mattered anymore. She had been a good wife and shockingly alike himself with her long light blond hair and sharp features, people even sometimes thought they were brother and sister. He suspected that she never loved him either, but nevertheless, their marriage was still a happy one. He would have never bothered with such a grand ceremony if it hadn't been for her parents and, especially, his son. Hard to grasp for anyone who wasn't an immediate friend of the family, which was very few, but he loved his son more than anything else in the whole world. He would have done anything for him, which meant of course giving a grand good-bye to his mother. His son loved his mother and wanted a big funeral and he loved his son. And although it would've seemed surprising to some, he wanted his son to be a good man, a better man than he himself knew he could ever be and he would do anything to shield him from the dark of this world.

With his free hand, he ruffled the boy's damp hair. Then he squatted down and turned the boy towards him. His grey eyes were swollen and red and he was shaking from crying. Draco hugged him close to him and then standing up, he hoisted him onto his arms. With one last look on the tombstone, he turned away and headed towards the manor. As he walked back, carrying his son, a stray ray of last sunlight found its way through the clouds and illuminated the gold lettering on the tombstone.

'_Astoria Malfoy n. Greengrass_

_January 17 1982_

_May 23 2011_

_Beloved mother, daughter, sister and wife._

_RIP'_

_

* * *

_

The same moment, but on the other side of the country. Three dark figures this time. The tallest figure in the middle was staring at the bright grey tombstone for so long now that she couldn't discern the different letters. It wasn't really that she loved him, or yes, she did love him, but it was the fact that he had left her like this with their two children and her fear of the future that really made her cry during the funeral. He hadn't been a bad husband, not really, but not such a good one either. He had gone to work everyday, he brought home money and everything, he had been a good father to their children and he loved her. She loved him for all of this when he was still alive. She had thought that that was all there was to it. She had wanted him to get a better job after their first child was born, because although George did pay well, she didn't want him to be a shopkeeper for ever. Especially with their baby daughter now that they had to look after. And he had satisfied her wishes. It was with Harry's that he had gotten the post in the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic, she knew, but nevertheless she was happy he did it for her. She knew nothing about his afternoon visits to the back room of the Leaky Cauldron, of course. She knew that Harry was always home earlier than he was, but then again he was the head of the department. It wasn't until two days before the funeral that she had gotten the first letter. A wave of nausea filled her as she remembered the proximity of the threats. A strained sob escaped her throat. She drew in a sharp breath. She didn't want her children to hear her crying. But there was still that one thought running in her head. _What are we going to do? _ As she blinked, a wave of tears spilt over her eyelids and in that moment before the salty drops obscured her vision, she saw the engraving on the tombstone clearly once again.

_Ronald Billius Weasley_

_1980-2011_

_Beloved father, husband, friend, son and brother._

_RIP_

Yes, that was all engraved before the truth about Ron Weasley came out two days before the funeral. She imagined that if it happened earlier, the engraving would have been different. For a second her vision darkened and in the middle of it floated a ghostly new tombstone with a new, different engraving: _The biggest idiot and liar, the worst father and husband and the biggest gambler._ Hermione smiled bitterly at the thought. Yes, it was true. For the past 5 years, her late husband Ronald Weasley had been playing vampire poker every day from 4 to 6:30 p.m. Vampire poker, a game where you seemingly can't lose and yet he managed. He managed not only to lose, but to lose everything and still keep it secret. If she thought about it objectively, she could say that it was quite clever. He never lost the day's pay, that was one thing he never bet. No, he lost everything that was in their bank vault at Gringott's to the extent that not even selling the house which they didn't own and on which they had a mortgage and everything in it wouldn't pay for his debts.

She started shaking from crying. She didn't have the slightest idea what they were going to do. She hugged her children closer together. She was going to fight hard to make everything go well again, as she always did, she knew, but right now she didn't have the means or the strength to do it. After all she was standing at her dead husband's tombstone for the past five hours. It was already dark, and the rain was starting to pour down more heavily by the minute. None of the three figures noticed a fourth and a fifth standing in the shadows of the nearby birch trees. It was only when the taller of the figures came to them and put a comforting hand on her shoulder that she acknowledged their presence. She felt her children being carefully taken away from her grasp by gentle hands and she faintly heard the soothing voice of her sister-in-law as she led them away but she couldn't do anything. She would've crumpled down if there suddenly weren't two strong hands that caught her and held her close to a male chest.

"Hermione…" Harry's voice whispered from the darkness.

"What are we going to do?" she cried, her voice drowning in sobs. Harry didn't answer, just held her close, hoping that she could calm down a little.

"Hermione, come home. We are going to figure something out, but you won't help it by standing here all night!" he said after a while. Slowly, she let him guide her away and soon the two lone figured disappeared into the darkness.

**I hope I didn't disappoint you much...**

**Anyway, I just wanted to show how much worse Hermione's life was going to be after the death of her loved one than Draco's and how much less composed or serene she is about it.**

**And by the way, I don't know if there is anything like vampire poker in the books or really, but the one I was writing about was a game (called vampire poker) that we played at camp once, really easy to play and very difficult to lose in it. It's a pity I can't remember the rules, I only remember that you can use any kind of cards... **

**Well, I hope you liked it and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: You Owe Me a Favour

**Hi! I'm sorry if the chapters before seemed a short, so this is quite a long one, I'd say. And the next will be also long... so enjoy!**

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe this was happening. Everything from Ron's death over the letter about his debts up until now had been like a dream. Then again, he would've never even dreamed he would ever try to summon muggle tranquillizers from the nearest pharmacy, but there he was. He and Ginny had decided that that was the best and only thing to do since they didn't have any calming potion and all the shops were closed now at two in the morning. It had also been their last hope to make Hermione calm down. She had gone from crying quietly to screaming violently (they even had to cast a Muffliato spell to keep the children from hearing and waking up) to sending curses at them to finally crouching in the corner looking like a little panicked animal and not letting Harry nor Ginny near her. Finally Harry was able to get her to eat a couple of spoonfuls of hot soup that Ginny had made and that was packed with muggle calming meds. It had been their last hope and it had worked. Soon enough Hermione's shallow, rapid breathing slowed down and then her head finally drooped. Now with her finally in Lily's bed (they had moved Lily, Albus and James into James's room, Rose with Hugo were sharing Albus's room and Hermione was in Lily's), Harry and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen, both gratefully sipping on the cup of tea Ginny had made for them. As if on queue, his wife squeezed his hand. He looked up and smiled at her. She was still beautiful. Her red hair fell past her shoulders and finished just above her waist, as bright as ever. Her chestnut-brown eyes showed only kindness and love. The only markers that something was worrying her were that the lines around her mouth were a bit more pronounced. Strangers wouldn't be able to discern it, but Harry was. She smiled back at him, but a bit sadly.

"We have to help Hermione somehow!" Harry nodded. "We have to give her money or something! I still can't believe Ron…" she didn't finish the sentence but Harry understood.

"I'll offer her money, but you know her. She won't accept it." This time it was Ginny's turn to nod.

"What will they do?"

Harry shrugged. "They'll have to leave the house and sell everything in it as a start." Harry sighed. "Which brings up another question: where will they stay?"

"Can't they perhaps stay here for a while?" she asked, a slightly pleading note entering her voice.

"No, you know how happy I'd be if it was possible, but it isn't. We don't have space as it is. And the kids didn't argue about where they would be sleeping just because of the funeral, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I know. I wish we could go back to the Grimmauld Place. There would be enough space for ten more people!" They had to stop living there a year ago and move temporarily because the house had started to crumple underneath them. They decided that it was too much of a waste to just leave it, so they decided to have it repaired and redecorated while they were at it. That had been before they knew what was going to happen.

"Me too. We have to find them another place to stay. The Burrow?" Harry suggested.

"No, not with Percy and Audrey and their children living there with Mum and Dad. The Shell Cottage?"

"No way! Its way too overcrowded there with Victoire, Dominique and Louis. They don't even have a guest room anymore!"

"Nor do we, Ginny!" Harry pointed out. This made Ginny smile. "What about at George's and Angelina's?"

"Yeah, in that little flat above his shop? Even with all the magical expansion it still wouldn't be big enough. Charlie?"

"In Romania? I don't think so. What about Muriel?"

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to have to little children running around her house, especially since she can't stand up anymore!" Harry nodded and for a while they were silent, both lost in their own thoughts about how to help Hermione, both going down their mental list of friends and family that could technically house her and her children for a few months.

"We need someone who has a big house and wouldn't mind Hermione and her children staying there." Harry started musing aloud.

"Well," Ginny started hesitantly. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly and she continued, "someone with a big house does come to mind. But I don't know about the not minding Hermione part."

Harry looked at her blankly. "Hmm?"

"Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" A thought flashed in his mind.

"Yeah, you're right. That's probably not such a good idea."

"Actually," Harry smiled mischievously, "I was thinking exactly the opposite!"

* * *

Draco was enjoying the quietness of the manor and the tingling of Firewhisky in his throat. This time it hadn't been a problem to make Scorpius sleep: he had cried himself to sleep in Draco's arms when the latter was carrying him back into the house earlier that evening. He hadn't woken up since. Since then Draco had made himself supper and then sat in the parlour with a glass of Firewhisky in his hand. He didn't miss Astoria yet, though he knew the quietness in the house would start to annoy him soon and then he'd get used to it again eventually. He sighed, downed the remaining of the drink and stood up. And he staggered.

"I must be drunker than I thought." Draco murmured and started his way to the stairs. He wasn't a person who couldn't hold his liquor. On the other hand. Plus, it was to his advantage, that unless he was really hammered, his speech was coherent and wasn't even slurred. It was true that his balance wasn't as good when he was drunk, but otherwise he could usually pass a sober.

As he reached the stairs, there was a crack in the fireplace. He turned around to see that the fire was starting to turn green. He cursed under his breath and rapidly returned to the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle of sober-up potion and taking a swig, just in case. He immediately felt the potion taking action: suddenly everything was sharp and his head was clear as if he had just woken up. He moved to the fireplace and knelt down on his knees just as a head formed in the middle of the flames.

"What the hell, Potter? What do you want?" He didn't even try to hide his annoyance. He didn't want Potter floo-calling him in the middle of the day, let alone in the middle of the night. "It's three in the morning! Normal people sleep during this time of night!"

Harry sneered at him. "Well, looks like you don't belong to that group since _you_ certainly haven't seen your bed yet, tonight!"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Well, the only consolation to me is that you don't belong to it either!" he said, irony dripping from his words. "Whatever. What do you want? I'm sure you haven't floo-called me just to comment on my sleeping habits."

"Yes, you're right. I need to talk to you!"

"Well, go ahead! I'm listening!"

"Not over the floo-network! Personally."

"You want to meet with me?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yes. Are you doing anything tomorrow morning?"

"Depends what you call morning."

"Ten o'clock okay for you?" Harry asked his tone suggesting a hint of impatience.

"Fine." Draco replied curtly. He hadn't expected Potter to give in so easily. "So where do you want to meet?"

"Will you be able to arrive to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Lovely. I expect you to be there on time, is that clear, Malfoy?" his tone was hard, suggesting no protests but Draco couldn't care less.

"Absolutely," he said in a mocking voice.

"Great. If you don't come, _I'll_ come to get you."

"Is that supposed to be a threat, Potter?"

Harry decided not to answer just raised his eyebrows in a what-do-you-think manner. "Good night Malfoy. I'll see you tomorrow. Be on time." And with that his head disappeared and the flames turned back to being their usual colour. Draco sat back and contemplated what he just witnessed. But no matter how much he stretched his mind, he could not think of a single reason why would Potter want to have a meeting with him. They haven't seen each other for over ten years, since the Battle of Hogwarts and he had stayed low, not really wanting to give Potter an excuse to see him. He had heard and read about him and his friends in the Daily Prophet, of course, so he knew that Potter had married Ginny Weasley and they had three little bastards together as he was sure that Potter knew that he had married Astoria Greengrass and had Scorpius with her. But he always made sure that he did everything legally, a part of his trying to be a better person. So why would Potter want to see him right now, after Astoria's death. He sighed and stood up and putting up with the fact that he would have to wait 7 hours to get his answer, he started his way to the stairs for the second time that night.

* * *

Draco arrived to the Leaky Cauldron on the stroke of ten. The inn was just as he remembered it. Dark and a bit shabby, with questionable people sitting in the darkest corners. But he could see a few changes: there were new tables and it looked generally cleaner. He looked up to see a familiar woman standing behind the counter instead of old Tom. He went closer to her and then he remembered.  
"Hannah Abbott, right?"

Hannah seemed momentarily surprised that he remembered her name but then she answered. "Longbottom, but yeah, right. To the back room, Mr. Malfoy, Harry is waiting for you there." He wanted to ask her if she had really married that fool, Longbottom, but she was already in front of him, leading the way to the room, where Potter was waiting. Draco had quite a hard time hiding his excitement and impatience. He still hadn't figured out why Potter wanted to see him.

They entered a room. It was even darker here then in the tap-room. He saw Harry sitting behind a table in the middle of the room. There was a single candle in the middle. Harry was sitting pushed away from the table and the pool of light so Draco couldn't see his face. The former stood up when he saw Hannah and Draco enter the room.

"Malfoy. I'm glad you made it," he said in an emotionless voice. Draco sneered and sat on the other chair opposite Harry.

"I'll leave you to it, gentlemen, but just tell what you'll have to drink!" Hannah said.

Harry answered first. "I'd like a glass of pumpkin juice, thank you, Hannah."

Draco smirked. "A glass of Firewhisky." Hannah nodded and disappeared out the door. Draco turned back to Harry. "Can't even hold your liquor, Potter?" he asked mockingly.

Harry glared at him from the shadows. "I, unlike some people, have work to go to after this and need a clear head for my work _and_ unlike someone, I only had breakfast a few hours ago."

Draco was about to answer when Hannah came in and set the two glasses on the table. They both muttered their thank yous and Hannah smiled and left them to it as she had said before. Only then did Harry finally move with his chair closer to the table. With surprise, Draco saw that he didn't look that well. His face was pale and there were purple circles under his eyes. His jaw was set tightly and his forehead was creased with worry. He looked run down.

"Wow, Potter, looks like you had a hell of night! Should I contribute it to the affections of dear Mrs. Potter?" he asked mockingly.

To his surprise Harry didn't snap back at him, he answered calmly, only tiredness ringing out of his voice. "Ginny had nothing to do with it. But yes, you're right; I did have a hell of a night. That's one of the reasons I'm here."

Draco studied him, but his expression gave nothing away. Finally Draco sighed. "So what do you want, Potter? I don't have the whole day, you know!"

"I heard your wife died. My condolences." His voice didn't show if he was mocking him or if meant it.

But this made Draco even angrier. "What do you want from me?" he asked not bother to hide his annoyance anymore. "I only came here because-"

Harry cut him off. "Because you know that it would be unwise to make someone in my position unhappy?"

Draco glared at him and thought about shooting at him a smart-ass remark but then thought better of it. "_What do you want?_ I'm asking for the third and last time!"

Harry smiled provocatively. "You owe me a favour, Malfoy!" he stated.

Draco just stared. "I beg your pardon? I'm not sure I know what you mean." _How could someone like _me_ owe a _favour_ someone like _Potter_? _he thought.

"Oh, I'm sure you know exactly what I mean." When Draco didn't say anything, Harry elaborated. "I'm sure your mother… informed you about our little… arrangement," he raised the tone of his voice slightly at the end of the sentence to make it more pronounced.

Draco instantly knew what he meant. A memory flashed in front of his eyes. He remembered when he went through his mother's things after she died. In a secret compartment in her closet he found a box full of letters. He had opened the box, curious what his mother could be hiding from the world. On top of all the letters there had been a folded piece of paper. On unfolded it and greedily read what it said. It was addressed to him.  
_My dearest and most beloved son Draco,  
if you are reading this letter then I must be dead. I hid the box well enough so it wouldn't be found, if it is then the charms that protected it must have been broken by my death.  
My dear boy, I'm sorry to say that everything that is in these letters is true. I hope you won't be too angry when you read them, you must understand, that I did it all for your good. I couldn't have told you while I was still alive because I knew that you would be very angry with me. You'll still be angry with me, but now it can't hurt me. I only hope that it won't taint your memory of me.  
I have kept the letters that I received and made a copy of all the letters that I sent. They are arranged in chronological order and the envelopes are numbered. With my death, the favour passes on to you, my dear son. I must press on you, thought, that however unpleasant this favour may be for you, you must under all circumstances fulfil it! We Blacks and Malfoys are wizards and witches of honour! I have swore that I would repay for the favour given to me and even though I have not had the chance to do so and thus the favour is now bestowed upon you, I expect that you will fulfil in all circumstances.  
Just remember that I did it in good faith.  
_

_You__r loving Mother,_

_Narcissa._

He had read all the letters after that, a bit anxious to get to know what his mother had done. He was surprised to see that the correspondence was between his mother and Harry Potter. He was equally surprised to see that his mother had written the first letter. And he was even more surprised to get to know what the letters were about. He never knew his mother had saved Harry Potter's life from Voldemort: a favour _he_ owed _her. _His favour was repaid when he had convinced the Aurors and everyone else that the Malfoys didn't do anything wrong and that they should be let to go. And then he eventually got to the nature of the problem. His mother, worried that even though Harry Potter had managed to convince everyone to let the Malfoys go, people still didn't believe them and that nor Draco nor Lucius would ever get a high-ranking and responsible job. She managed to convince Harry to go and talk to the Minister and make him do something. Harry Potter agreed and it had worked. Lucius got back his position on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts which he occupied a very short time, dying soon after the end of the War (nevertheless he managed to choose the right spouse for Draco). Draco finished his N.E. and after his father died took his place on the Board of Governors, occasionally being contacted by wizards of all ranks (mostly the wealthier one) to be their lawyer, because he did after all study Magical Law. At first he was angry that this was all Potter's doing, but after a few weeks he accepted it and decided to make the better of it and eventually forgot about it.  
And now, after 5 years he was going to be tortured by it again?

He was ripped out from his memories by Harry's voice. "I see by your expression that you know what I mean?" Draco just glared at him. "You needn't to worry, Malfoy. It's not like I'm going to abuse my advantage over you. I'm not doing it for myself, after all. And trust me, if I did have another choice, I wouldn't be here. But I don't."

Draco sighed. He had to accept that there really was no way out of this. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Your house is big, right?"

"You've been there before, Potter!" Draco hissed. He should've known that Potter wouldn't go straight to the point.

Harry knew Draco was playing with him. But for a second his vision darkened by the only memory he had of the Manor. Bellatrix, a knife, the Dark Mark, Snatchers, the cellar, Luna, Ollivander, Dobby, Hermione…. Hermione! The thought of his friend got him back on topic. "Big enough for you to house one adult and two small children for more than one night?"

_Where is he going with this? _he thought on the inside. Outside, he just rolled his eyes. "Yes, big enough! Get to the point Potter!"

Harry sighed and braced himself. "You know that Ron Weasley is dead, right?"

"Yes and? What does it have to do with this?"

"Everything. Hermione is currently in a… difficult situation. I want you to let her and her two children stay at your house for a couple of months."

Draco stared at him unbelievably. _He couldn't have just said that! _"WHAT? You must be kidding me, Potter! Not for a million years! I hate her!" Draco shouted at him

"If it weren't for me you wouldn't even be here let alone _have _the house! Think about it Malfoy!" Harry said through clenched teeth. Then he added more softly, "Scorpius would have someone to play with, to take his mind of his mother…" Harry knew he had hit the right note instantly after he had said it. Even though Draco had the mask of not caring about anything Harry knew that deep down he loved his son like any father did.

Draco clenched his fists and seemed to be fighting some kind of inside battle. Finally he said: "Okay, I'll do it."

Harry let out a long breath. That was when Draco realise how much he had been depending on this. Harry started to stand up, but Draco stopped him. "Wait. I'm going to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Harry stared at Draco, astonished. _Maybe he's really trying to be a better person. _"I'll call Hannah to be our Bonder." Draco just nodded.

Hannah came in quickly, holding her wand. Harry gripped Draco's hand tightly. Draco responded with a grip as strong as Harry's. Then Harry started speaking.

"Will you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, let Hermione Jean Granger and her children Rose and Hugo Weasley stay at your house, the Malfoy Manor?"

"I will," came Draco's answer. A ray of red light shot out of Hannah's wand and wrapped itself around Draco's hand.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, make their stay comfortable?"

"I will." A second ray of light shot out of Hannah's wand and wrapped itself around Harry's hand.

"And, will you not let them leave before they can assure to have a place to live appropriate to their condition and a moderate amount of money in their vault in the bank?"

"I will." A third and final ray, shining more than the other before it, shot out of the wand, connected itself first to the first one then it wrapped itself around their joint hands and finally connected itself to the one wrapped around Harry's hand. For a moment it seemed as if their hands shone and then the bright red light died out. Harry and Draco immediately let go of each others' hands. Harry murmured a thank you at Hannah, who left the room soon after.

Then he turned back to Draco. His emerald green eyes bore into Draco's bright grey ones. "Thank you, Draco." With that he turned on his heel and left the room without another word, his black cloak billowing around him.

Draco stared after him. He couldn't believe he had just made an Unbreakable Vow to Harry Potter about letting Hermione Granger and her kids live with him. He shook his head and then left the room.

**I know it seems a bit silly to make an Unbreakable Vow about such a thing but I wanted Draco to show that he is serious about the favour he had to return and to make Harry see that Draco has changed. And I know that in the book the Unbreakable Vow is a bit different but I really imagine it more like this and it would be strange to copy. **

**I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4: Malfoy Manor

**Hi. This chapter is very boring because there is nothing happening. Originally, it was supposed to be only a part of the 4th chapter but it already is quite long. Chapter 5 will be today evening or tomorrow. Enjoy and please review!**

When Harry got back home around four o'clock that afternoon, his thoughts were still full of his morning conversation with Draco Malfoy. Convincing Malfoy to house Hermione for a couple of months had been surprisingly easy, considering. Harry knew that Malfoy would eventually have to agree, he had no choice, but that Harry would only have to bring up two arguments _and_ that Malfoy would even make an Unbreakable Vow, and that it would be _his _idea really never crossed Harry's mind. Now, with everything settled, Harry felt a little calmer about Hermione's and her children's future. When he stepped out of their fireplace and left the tickling green flames behind he only had the time to notice, to his happiness, that Hermione was keeping busy by playing with the children before he nearly fell back from the force of the blow as three small children threw themselves at him.

"Daddy!"

"Daddy!"¨

"Daddy!" three separate high voices yelled at him as his three children tried to get the first hug of their Dad. Harry squatted down and with his arms pressed all three of them into one hug, so they won't argue later. Then, standing up again and pushing his children gently further away from him, he addressed the two children that were standing a bit shyly and sadly a few feet behind the first three.

"Rosie, Hugo, come and say hello to your Uncle Harry!" Harry smiled as their faces lit up and they hurried to give him a hug. As Harry squatted down again, he caught Hermione's eye and she smiled gratefully at him.

Once all the hugs were done with, the children took it as a queue to start telling Harry what they did during the day.

"Daddy! Come and look at the picture I drew!" called the smallest of Harry's children and his only girl, Lily.

"No Daddy! Come and look at my picture!"

"No! My picture is the nicest!"

"Lily, Albus, James, stop arguing!" Harry said firmly, "I'll come to look at all of your pictures, but I've got to talk Mummy first, it's very important." He felt Hermione's look on him but he look back at her. "I'm sure you were playing a very exciting game with Aunt Mione!"

"Mummy was teaching us how to play a card game called Mau-Mau!" Rose informed him.

"Yeah, it's _real _cool even though it's muggle!" James continued.

"I won the first hand!" Lily bragged.

"Well done, princess. Now, I've really got to talk to your mum, but you'll teach me later, okay?" And without waiting for an answer, he masterly avoided his children and disappeared in the kitchen before they could protest. Before he closed the door he could hear Hermione's voice telling the children to leave him for a while and come finish the game. He turned around and saw Ginny. She was just making a couple of knives cut up the carrot with a swing of her wand. He walked towards her and kissed her on her jaw. She smiled and turned around and returned his kiss.

"So?" she asked.

"He agreed."

She smiled. "Good."

"_And _made an Unbreakable Vow."

"What? Really?"

"_And_ it was _his_ idea!"

She gasped in shock. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I was as shocked as you! We _are _talking about Malfoy after all. Did you talk to her?"

"I did." Harry sat down and Ginny turned back to the carrots.

"So?"

"She said that she has to release the mortgage and sell their stuff to get them going."

"Well at least she accepted that. That's one less thing to convince her about."

Ginny nodded. "So when are you supposed to bring her to the Manor?"

"We didn't talk about that, but I think that today would be the best. Before he gets too much time to think about it."

"Okay." Ginny turned around to face him. "You should go talk to her. She'll listen to you more than to me. Plus you know her longer."

"By _one _year, Ginny!"

"_And _she's your best friend!"

"Fine, I'll go."

Ginny turned around again and smiled. "Good luck." Harry returned her smile and left the kitchen.

Hermione was deep in a Mau-Mau game with the children, but Harry noticed that she was playing distractedly with something silver and small. She pocketed it as soon as she heard him come in. He hated to tear up their game but he had to talk to her when she was fairly happy and calm. Or so she looked.

"Kids, go play upstairs!"

Immediately a wave of whines and protests broke out. "But Daaaad!"

"No buts, as I said. I need to have a private talk with Aunt Mione."

"Now? And can't we stay?"

"No, absolutely not!" Rose and Hugo were already carrying their cards upstairs. "Look at your cousins! They listen! Take their example." Lily, Albus and James took the rest of the cards and followed them upstairs, their little angel faces angry. Harry would have to make it up to them later, but now he had more important things on his mind.

Hermione was looking at him expectantly. He sat down next to her on the sofa. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, thank you."

Harry smiled. "Good. Hermione… you'll have to move out from your house. You know that right?"

"Yes, I know," she said flatly.

Harry took a deep breath and braced himself. Now was coming the hard part. "Hermione… you can't stay here."

She sensed that he was uncomfortable and said: "Don't worry, Harry. I'll find something."

"Well, um, I actually found something for you already."

"You did?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. An…um… an acquaintance of mine has agreed to house you and the kids for a few months."

"Do I know her?"

"Yes you know him. He has a big house and only a son to share it with and-"

"Him? Harry, no-"

"Hermione, it's just for a few months and-"

"No, Harry, absolutely not!"

"Hermione, Malfoy already agreed to it!"

"MALFOY?" she yelled, "Harry, no! NO! I won't accept Malfoy's favour! I still have a piece of pride inside me!"

"Yes, exactly!" he yelled back. "Hermione! This isn't about pride anymore! This is about survival! Think about your kids, Rose and Hugo, you can't just let them starve to death! Malfoy agreed that he'll let you stay at the Manor for a few months. There's only him and his son, and you know how big that place is, don't you? You probably won't even meet him!"

There was a moment of silence, but then: "Okay." Hermione said quietly. "I'll do it."

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Draco was sitting on one of the classically embroidered sofas in the drawing room. The drawing room was getting darker by the second. It was usually dark, but now with the evening approaching and the only light in the room being the smouldering fire, the drawing room was even darker. It was an impeccably furnished room, two dark green sofas and one loveseat embroidered with silver thread around the beautifully decorated fireplace, with an antique walnut coffee table between them. The whole room was set into these colours: a perfect Slytherin matching. The French windows that could open up to the terrace were covered with heavy dark green curtains and they didn't let through any light. The ceilings were high and there was one grand chandelier hanging in the middle. On the left of the fireplace was a hallway leading to the hall. To the right of the fireplace was a hallway leading to the dining room and then further to the kitchen. Opposite the fireplace was the antique cabinet with liquors. To the right of the cabinet was a staircase leading to the second storey, where the bedrooms were situated. To the right of the staircase was another hallway, this time leading to the library, the study and the other drawing room. The French windows faced the group of sofas in the middle of the room. The whole room and actually the whole house was furnished in an antique style.

Draco was sitting on the sofa with his back to the French windows. He had a strange feeling around his stomach. Such a feeling he had only experienced a couple of times during his whole life. Usually when he was in severe proximity of the Dark Lord. It made him uneasy. Draco Malfoy wasn't used to being nervous. Suddenly, a high ring echoed through the house. A moment later, Scorpius came running downstairs. Draco had told him that they would be having visitors and Scorpius was happy. And Draco was happy that his son was happy. The ring told him that someone had just walked through the gates of the Manor. Draco stood up, put his arm around Scorpius's shoulders and led him around the sofas, stopping a few feet in front of the entrance to the drawing room. Then he called:

"Dottie!" With a bang a house elf apparated right in front of him.

She bowed and said: "Master Draco called?"

"Has Dottie prepared the three rooms for our guests as I told her?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Very well." At that, the house elf bowed so low that her big floppy ears were touching the floor. "The guests will be arriving shortly. You will answer the door and take them here, where me and Master Scorpius will take care of them."

"Yes, sir." She was about to scurry off when Draco said:

"One more thing, Dottie. Have you prepared the sandwiches, in case they were hungry?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very well." Again Dottie bowed. "You may go!" Dottie bowed again and scurried into the a loud 'pop' Harry, Hermione, Rose and Hugo apparated just a few feet away from the gate of the Malfoy Manor. Harry had been originally aiming for just outside the front door but then again, he thought, he should've known that the Manor would have strong property wards. He looked around himself. He had been at the Manor only once and then he had barely been able to see through his puffed up eyes, the result of Hermione's Stinging Jinx. Far behind gate he could see the dark outline of the Manor against the darkening sky. If there was any light anywhere inside the house, you couldn't see it from the outside. Even through the gate Harry could see how vast the grounds that belonged to the Manor were. He took a deep breath and heard Hermione do the same and then raised his wand. As if by magic, the gate opened and the path that lead to the illuminated in front of them. Harry was just about to set off when he felt Hermione's hand on his arm.

"I can't do this, Harry!" she whispered desperately.

"Well, you'll have to!" Harry responded mercilessly and then set off up the path, tugging Hermione behind him, thus tugging Rose and Hugo as well.

Five minutes later, all four of them were standing outside the front door. It was grand with a silver knock in the shape of a snake. Harry lifted it. It didn't, Harry thought, even have time to fall when the door opened. For a moment the bright light from inside the house blinded them and they couldn't see who opened the door but then their eyes adjusted and they still couldn't see who opened the door.

"Dottie to your service!" suddenly said a high voice. It reminded Harry of Dobby. His eyes slid down and stopped at a about 2 and a half foot house-elf. She was wearing a rather shapeless, but very clean pillowcase which was embroidered with little green snakes. She had enormous bat-like ears and big, round dark eyes. When Harry looked at her, she bowed so low that her ears bent against the floor.

"A house-elf!" Harry heard Hermione squeak in horror, but he paid no attention, because Dottie started speaking.

"Please come in! Master Draco and Master Scorpius told Dottie to take your cloaks and then take you to the drawing room where Masters will be waiting for you!" She stepped aside and motioned for them to come in. Harry glanced at Hermione, but she seemed unable to take a step so instead, he took Rose and Hugo by the hand and took them inside. The children, especially Hugo, were already excited as it was, but now that they saw they were nearly jumping up and down.

"Uncle Harry, so that's a real house-elf?" Hugo asked in an incredulous voice.

"Yes, it is," Harry answered patiently, "and she wants you to give her your coats!" The children obediently handed their cloaks to Dottie and watched amazedly as she let them float in the air and then made them disappear.

Harry turned back to look at Hermione, taking in the vastness of the antechamber. The walls were surprisingly light, Harry expected something much darker than the soothing creamy white, and formed a strange, but pleasant contrast with the dark floor and furniture. In the middle of the very high ceiling hang a certainly not modest glass chandelier. There was an antique mirror opposite the door and to the left of it a little creamy white stool in the same style as the mirror. To the left of the door stood a small table from dark walnut wood. _If this is the hall, than how does the rest of the house look? _Harry wondered. But then all his attention was taken by Hermione who was still standing on the threshold, a shocked expression on her face.  
She caught Harry's eye and whispered in a strained voice: "He has a house-elf? How can he have a house-elf?"

"Of course he has a house-elf! He's still a pure-blood! But did you see her pillowcase? It's embroidered! Life at the Malfoy Manor can't be that bad! And if you hadn't noticed, she doesn't have a single bruise or burn!" Hermione seemed to consider this and so Harry took advantage of her not having her guards up and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her, taking her cloak off and handing it to Dottie. And before Hermione could say anything, she was being lead through the hallway into the drawing room by the house-elf, Harry behind her and her children on either side of and Scorpius both heard the sound of the front door opening, Dottie's high-pitched voice and the sound of footsteps. They also heard voices, first a small boy's one and then a more low-pitched, man's voice. _Potter came with them. _It figured, he wouldn't let Granger go alone. Moments later, the whole party came in, Dottie in their head. Draco's gaze fell immediately on Hermione. She looked, well, _down_, to say the least. She had even bigger and darker circles under her eyes than Potter had had that morning and she was even paler. Lines of despair and worry showed on her face. But beneath all that, objectively speaking, she was a very pretty and attractive woman. Her chestnut coloured hair wasn't curly anymore, utmost a little wavy and slightly lighter than before, with almost golden, natural highlights. Her eyes were still the same remarkable shade of chocolate brown, her lips full and a natural pink. He hadn't seen her in real life since the Battle of Hogwarts and he now saw that her body had developed a little from a teenaged girl's one to a young woman's one. Her waist was slender and her breasts exactly the right size. Her legs, from what he could see, were fairly long and slim. The fact that she had nursed two children wasn't at all visible on her body. In fact, Draco would have said that she was in her middle, maximum late, twenties if he hadn't known otherwise. Subjectively speaking, she was still a very pretty and attractive woman, but at her sight, a sudden, dull burn of hatred started in his insides, just below his heart. His right hand, which he was currently holding behind his back, clenched into a fist. He had to put up all his effort not to clench his jaw too.

He screened her from head to toe, watching for a moment how she took in her surroundings, her amazement at the room, the high ceilings, the possibly even grander chandelier, the green-silver colour matching, the antique furniture, settling his gaze finally at the two children on either side of her. These, feeling his look on them, turn their attention back at him. The boy, Hugo, Draco remembered, looked at him and then quickly dropped his eyes to the floor, blushing with a bright red that clashed with his red hair. _Exactly like Weasley, with looks _and _character. _Draco thought. Then he shifted his gaze to the girl. Rose, unlike her brother, stared right back at him, her head high and a proud, unyielding look in her chocolate brown eyes. She looked exactly like her mother except for the way too singular Weasley gene in her flaming red hair, which was as curly as Hermione's had been in their first year at Hogwarts.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor!" He took a step forward, taking his right hand from behind his back and extending it towards Harry who stood behind them. The latter stepped around and shook his hand. Then Draco turned around and held out his hand to Hermione. She moved hers to meet his, thinking that he would shake it as well, but to her's and Harry's great surprise, he didn't shake it, instead he met her hand and turned it slightly, knuckles up, then brought it up to about a foot from his lips, and bowed his head as if kissing her. Then he dropped her hand. Hermione's knees nearly gave out from surprise. Thankfully, Harry caught her in the last minute. Draco looked back up as if nothing happened. "This is my son Scorpius!" he said and pushed the boy slightly towards them.

If Hermione had hard feelings for Draco Malfoy, they disappeared when she saw his son. He was exactly like his father and yet totally different. Her gaze softened as it landed on him and she immediately crouched down to look him in the eyes. His child features were much softer than his fathers' and his face much rounder, but that would change as he grew up, she knew. He had white blond hair slicked back like his father and obviously expensive clothes, but that was as far as their similarities went. Where Draco had brilliantly grey eyes, Scorpius had the bluest eyes Hermione had ever seen. It was as if the summer sky had frozen, that was the colour of them. Where Draco's eyes showed coldness and haughtiness, Scorpius were full of kindness and typical child excitement. She could clearly see a certain eagerness to meet the two children standing next to her and she figured that a boy like Scorpius couldn't have much friends.

"Hi Scorpius, my name is Hermione!" she smiled at him and he returned her smile a bit shyly. "These are my children!" Hermione motioned towards them.

Rose instantly took initiative; she was so much like Hermione, and said, stepping towards Scorpius and smiling widely: "Hi! My name is Rose and this is my little brother Hugo! He's a bit shy." Hugo immediately turned scarlet behind his sister.

"My name's Scorpius! Do you like Quidditch?"

"Yeah," answered Rose, "I love Quidditch! Our Aunt Ginny used to play for the Holyhead Harpies!"

"Really? That's so cool! The Holyhead Harpies are cool, but I like Pride of Portree best. Do you want to see my signed poster of them?"

"Sure!"

Scorpius smiled at her and turned towards his father. "Daddy, may I take Rose and Hugo up to my room? Please?"

Draco smiled. "Of course you may. There are sandwiches in the kitchen if you are hungry!" Once he said yes, Scorpius turned back to Rose, took her hand without hesitation and then left the room hurriedly, Hugo trailing behind them. "And don't run up the stairs!" Draco called after them, but they were already gone. He sighed and turned back to Harry and Hermione.

Before the silence could get awkward, Harry said: "Malfoy, I have to go, I have things to do. Would you show me out?" It was a question, but the expression in his eyes showed he meant it more like an order.

Draco nodded and turning towards Hermione, he said: "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be back in a second!" And left the room behind Harry.

Back in the antechamber, Harry turned abruptly and caught Draco by his collar. "I don't know what you're playing at, and I sincerely hope you aren't playing at anything," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm very glad that you let Hermione and the kids stay here, but if anything happens to them, if _you_ do something to her, than I'll kill you!"

"I didn't do an Unbreakable Vow about being happy!" Draco said mockingly.

"Yes, I know. But you'll be nice to her, I'll see to that!" With that he turned around and left the antechamber, closing the door behind him.

**Yeah, a boring chapter. The next one will be better, I promise. Anyway, if you ever saw Hercule Poirot (the tv series) then you might have noticed that he never kisses the hands of the ladies he says Hello to. That is where I got the idea, because nowadays when a guy kisses your hand, he wants to seduce you... (I am talking from the point of view of a girl) and I didnt want Draco to do that, just to say Hello elegantly. I hope you liked it... Please review! **


	5. Chapter 5: Lullaby

**Hi. I'm sorry it took me so long even though I promised it would be done on Saturday. Well, it was a bit longer than I expected (an imagine combining it with the last chapter) and I also had a lot of work to do over the weekend. Anyway, enjoy this chapter because I can't promise when the next one will be, since I don't know what's going to happen at all. I knew what was going to happen until now, but after this, I have only the main parts and not the in-between. Plus school started last week and we have quite a lot to do. So enjoy this chapter, I hope you like it and be warned, that the last part maybe should be rated as an M. And please review! **

Back in the drawing room, Draco was surprised to see that Hermione hadn't moved an inch. She was still standing on the same place he had left, staring into space. She looked so lost that he had to stand in front of her and wave his arms so that she would notice him. She jerked when her eyes focused.

He studied her for a second and then said: "Don't worry about Dottie. We only keep her for minor work and for cooking dinner and supper."

"Yeah?" she asked sarcastically, "and what about breakfast? You don't do that around here?"

"No, we make it ourselves." Draco answered calmly. "And if you have any further comments, you should first note that I treat my house-elf well, I give her long times off and I thank and appreciate her work. I'm sure you have noticed that she has an embroidered pillow-case and she doesn't have bruises or burns anywhere!" When Hermione didn't respond, he added: "And if you don't mind, I'll now show you to your room!" She just nodded weakly and followed him to the second storey.

They had prepared three rooms for them: one for each. Every room had its own bathroom with a bathtub, a lavatory, and all the other usually stuff bathrooms have. All three bathrooms were a mixture of dark marble and silver lining, all in the same antique style of the house. All had beautiful, crystal mirrors above the sinks and little, but very expensive-looking glass chandeliers that could be lighted by a swish of the wand. The bedrooms all had the same furniture inside them and all had the same shape. There was a big, king-sized bed with canopies and silk bed-clothes, two bedside tables, lamps, a glass chandelier, an armoire, a mirror, an armchair, a writing desk, a chair and a lit fireplace. Each of the bedrooms was set in a different colour matching, but all three had silver and dark furniture. The one Draco indicated to be Hugo's was a mix of silver and teal, Rose's was silver and a beautiful midnight blue and Hermione's was silver and royal purple. She didn't even have to ask what colour was the master bedroom. After an if-you-need-me-you'll-find-me-in-the-drawing-room and promising to send her kids to her went he went to chase Scorpius to bed, which would be very soon, Draco left Hermione alone in her room. She looked around and sighed. There was nothing personal in the room, she couldn't even see her clothes, they were folded up in the armoire. Despite the warm colour of the paint on the walls, the room was cold. She wondered who lived here, if there ever was anyone. She walked over to the armchair and barely had even time to sit down, when what seemed like a tornado in the shape of two children came bursting into the room.

"Muuuum! Mummy! You wouldn't believe how cool toys Scorpius has!" Hugo exclaimed closely followed by Rose, who added that Scorpius had the most amazing signed poster of the Pride of Portree Quidditch team.

Hermione smiled a bit sadly. "That's lovely. But now you have to go to bed, come on!" She took them by hand and lead them to their own rooms, helping Hugo wash and trusting that Rose was big enough to wash well herself. After a long fight with both her children over where they will be sleeping (Hugo had the room furthest away from his mother and refused to sleep there, so Hermione suggested that Rose could sleep with him, but the girl said that she wouldn't ever sleep in a room that had such a horrible colour, which made Hugo angry and they started arguing; finally Hermione managed a compromise, that they would be sleeping together in Rose's room) Hermione managed to sit on her bed, exhausted. She started playing with the vial again. She didn't even know what to think about Malfoy's acting. What was he playing at? She had come there expecting a couple of months of torture but he was acting as if she was a most honoured guest. Why would he even do that? Why would he bother? Did he want to taunt her in some way? But why wouldn't he do it openly, like always? Hermione sighed again. The emptiness of the whole room hit her again. She wished she could go back to their house, to their things. _But you'll never go there again, _she reminded herself. She hated taking favours from Malfoy. Why had he agreed anyway? He hated her, even with the best self-control she could how his eyes lit up when he saw her. Lit up, but not the good way.

Suddenly, she was torn out of her thoughts by something that sounded like a whimper. She darted up, _what if Rosie is crying?_ She quietly tip-toed to the other room, but both of her children were sleeping soundly. She left the room and wanted to go back to her own room when she heard another whimper.

"Malfoy?" she called in a whisper. She followed the sound until she stopped in front of a door that was open ajar. It was Scorpius's room.

She quietly entered the room. By now she was sure that the cries were coming out of there. The room was dark, but she could clearly see the pale form of the boy on the bed that was right opposite the door. He turned around when he heard the footsteps. Her heart leapt when she saw him. There was only a single ray of light coming into the room from the corridor, but she could see his bright blue eyes rimmed with red and tears glistening and sliding down his cheeks. She threw herself on the floor beside his bed.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart? Don't cry, it's going to be okay!"

"No it's not!" he cried, "Mummy's never going to come back!" This hit her hard. She thought that children bore the pain better than adults, but now she saw it was not true. She sighed.

"You miss her don't you?" The boy only nodded. She desperately needed to say something. Then she had it. "But you know, she's not really away." He looked up at her in surprise. "She'll always be here with you, in your memories, and here," she caught his hand and gently pressed it to his chest, "in your heart. You'll always remember her. She hasn't left you, she's still watching you," this time she pointed up towards the ceiling, "up, from above!"

"From the ceiling?" he asked childishly.

She almost smiled. "No, further up, above the ceiling, above the roof, up, up, in the sky! In heaven. She still loves and still sees but you just can't her anymore. I know it hurts and it probably never will stop, but one day you'll find out, that there can another Mum for you and that she's maybe as good as the one you knew!" she continued soothingly.

"Another Mummy? Like you?" he asked.

Hermione blushed scarlet. "Y-yes," she managed to say. It was uncomfortable, but she couldn't go, she couldn't leave now. "Why aren't you sleeping, Scorpius?" she asked softly.

"Because Mummy didn't sing me a lullaby!"

"And you can't fall asleep without one?"

"No."

"Oh. Well what about Daddy? Didn't he sing you one?"

She was surprised to find Scorpius chuckle quietly. "Daddy can't sing!" he said as if amused by the thought. Then he added more sadly: "He told me a story, but it wasn't the same thing. Mummy always tucked me in and sang me to sleep." He sighed.

Hermione didn't no what to do. "Well… what if you tell about her? About your Mummy? What was she like?" she asked.

"She was the best Mummy in the world!" Scorpius said enthusiastically.

Hermione smiled. "And what was she like? What did she look like?"

"She had long hair like you, but blonde like me and Daddy. And she had blue like me!"

"Wow. She must have been beautiful!"

"She was! The most beautiful Mummy in the world!"

"Maybe you can show me a picture of her!"

"Okay!" Scorpius jumped out of bed happily and started rummaging through his things. Meanwhile Hermione waved her wand and instantly Scorpius's little bedside lamp lighted up. He found what he was looking for and jumped back into bed, showing the pictures to Hermione. They were little children's pictures but Hermione was nevertheless quite impressed. All of the pictures were much better than any of Rose's or Hugo's pictures. It seemed like Scorpius was going to have a talent for drawing. He pointed to various versions of his mother. They were mostly similar: showing a thin woman with long blonde hair and blue. On each side of her were always Scorpius and Draco. There was one picture in front of a Christmas tree, another including Dottie, the house-elf.

"She really is beautiful!" Scorpius nodded happily. "Why don't you tell me about her? Like was she strict, or kind? What did she do?"

"She always woke me up at eight o'clock. Then she took me downstairs to the kitchen and made breakfast. We never ate breakfast in the dining room, always in the kitchen. Then she sent me to wash. When I came down, Ms. Tipton, my teacher was already there. We ate dinner at exactly twelve o'clock and Daddy always ate with us. In the afternoon she let me play as long as I didn't disturb her. Sometimes I played Quidditch with Daddy. Then we had supper and then we sat in the drawing room and Daddy asked me what I had learnt that day. Then Mummy took me up and watched me wash. Then she took me to bed and left and Daddy came and read me a chapter from a book that Ms. Tipton told me to read. Then he told me a story and then Mummy came and sang me a lullaby." he concluded.

Hermione smiled. "She sounds like a really kind Mummy."

"She was," Scorpius agreed, "but she was also strict. When I was naughty and bothered Ms. Tipton, she wouldn't let me play in the afternoon and I would have to sit in the library in disgrace." His face gloomed when he remembered that. But then it lit up again. "But usually she was ki-" His sentence was lost in a yawn.

"You should go to sleep now, Scorpius!" Hermione said.

"But someone needs to sing me a lullaby! Will you sing me a lullaby?"

Hermione stammered. "W-well, I…"

"Please!" The little boy's eyes pleaded too.

"Well, okay. Do you want any special lullaby?"

Scorpius smiled widely at her. "Yes!"

"Well, then I don't know if I know it. What about if you teach me?"

"Okay!" the boy agreed. And then he started singing. "_A la claire fontaine, m'en allant promener, j-_"

"Wait, but that's in French!"

"M-hmm!" Scorpius nodded happily. "Should I start again?"

"No, I know it. I'll sing it for you!" Hermione moved closer to the bed and Scorpius craned his head closer. She smiled and started stroking his hair. "_A la claire_ _fontaine, m'en allant promener, j'ai trouvé l'eau si belle, que je m'y suis baignée._"

Scorpius joined on the refrain and they sang together. "_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublirai."_

She sang alone again. "_Sous les feuilles d'un chêne, je me suis fait secher, sur la plus haute branche, un rossignol chatait."_ This time, Scorpius didn't join in for the refrain. Hermione looked down to see that his eyes were closed and his breathing long and even. He was sleeping. But Hermione didn't stop singing and stroking his hair, "_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublirai. __Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui as le cœur gai, tu as le cœur à rire, moi je l'ai à pleurer," _until she finished the song.

Draco thought he heard singing. At first he thought it was impossible, but when the singing continued, he decided to go upstairs and find out what it was. Once his foot landed on the second storey, though, the singing stopped. Draco frowned. _Maybe I'm just imagining things. _But once he was there, he decided to go check on Scorpius. The boy had trouble getting to sleep, because his mother wasn't there to sing him a lullaby. He would get over it eventually, Draco knew, but still it gave him a heavy heart.

Draco expected to see Scorpius still awake, though he was hoping that he would be asleep. What he saw when he opened the door surprised him. There was Hermione kneeling on the floor next to Scorpius's bed, one hand in Scorpius's little hand, the other on his head. They were both sleeping. He smiled involuntarily at the sight. _She was stroking his hair, _he thought, then as an afterthought, _Maybe I really did hear singing. _Draco tiptoed to the bed and carefully freed Hermione's hand from Scorpius's and then squatting beside and gently placing his arms under her legs and back, he stood up, carrying her in his arms. He walked quietly out of the room, still carrying her. She opened her eyes slightly when they entered the lit corridor, but shut them almost immediately after. He carried he to her room and laid her on the bed. Her shoes were off and he didn't feel comfortable taking her making a black silk dressing robe, neatly folded, appear on the edge of the bed. He smiled to himself and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a start. _Where am I? _The room was dark and even the fire had died out. She sat and felt around her. She was in the middle of a large bed, silk bed-clothes all crumpled around her. _Wait, silk? _Then she remembered. Of course, she was in Malfoy Manor, in her bedroom. Suddenly it was like royal purple was everything she could see. But wait, wasn't she in Scorpius's room the last thing last night? Yes, she was, she sang him that French lullaby, A la Claire Fontaine. So what was she doing in her own bed? She clearly remembered that she certainly didn't walk back to her own room which means that someone had to have carried her or levitated her back to her own room and bed. And the only person who could have done that was Draco Malfoy. She blushed, not knowing why. He would have levitated her, she knew, yet she had the strangest feeling that he carried her in his arms. She felt uncomfortable at that thought. Draco Malfoy carrying her in his arms wasn't something that would be a pleasant pastime for Hermione. Let alone the fact that he had found her in his beloved son's room, which would make seeing him even more uncomfortable. Hermione shuddered. Not only that she would have to deal with the Muggle bank today, which would be awfully unpleasant, she would also have to deal with a most certainly annoyed Draco Malfoy, which, in its own way could be even more unpleasant.

Hermione pushed the unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated on the fact that a few feet from where she sat, was a large marble bathtub and that the Malfoys certainly wouldn't have a problem with not enough hot water. She threw the bedclothes off of her and stood up. To her disgust she was still wearing yesterday's dress. _On second thought, I should be happy that Malfoy didn't undress me. _She quickly undressed and flinging the dress on the bed, she noticed something silk and black on its edge. She picked it up and it unfolded itself into a dressing gown, embroidered with silver flowers at the back. Hermione raised her eyebrows. It was pretty, yes, but why would it be here? She was pretty sure it wasn't there when she left the room yesterday, so Draco must've put it there when he carried her in. She didn't know what to think. He still hated her, that was obvious, so why all the kindness all of a sudden? With a frown she laid it back on the bed and taking out of the closet the clothes for the day, she disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour later, Hermione's mood was considerably better and also considerably more nervous. As she walked down through the dark corridor of the lower storey, her hands, placed behind her back, were shaking. She had expected him to be in the drawing room, but she was wrong. Remembering what he had said the evening before, she was now walking into the kitchen. Her hair was still wet and so she braided it and she was wearing a nice-ish outfit _and _she even put some make-up on, which made her look quite pretty, well at least better looking than yesterday. Even after everything, she wanted to make a good impression on Draco Malfoy.

She imagined that he would be immaculately dressed in something dark, his platinum blond hair slicked back as usual, but what she saw was entirely different. Draco Malfoy was sitting at the table in the kitchen, whilst there was a pan with eggs cooking on the stove, a mug of coffee in one hand, the Daily Prophet in the other, his hair dishevelled, a couple of strands falling into his eyes, green-white striped pyjamas and a green velvet dressing gown on. She had to admit, he sat with grace, but still. She was so stunned by this scene that she stopped dead on the threshold of the room. And to her misery, Draco looked up at that moment.

"Good morning, Granger! I hope you've slept well!" He grinned, but there was nothing to it, Hermione found out, it was just a 'good-morning' smile, nothing to provoke her, nothing that would suggest that he was angry or annoyed or even that he harboured any negative emotions towards her. Hermione was so taken aback by this that she just stood there and stared, with her mouth open. "By the way," he said, turning back to the newspaper, "it is a custom to wear pyjamas and your dressing gown to breakfast. It's been like this forever. And you can't say," he turned back to look at her, "that I didn't provide you with one!" He looked tight into her eyes when he said this.

She blushed. Suddenly she felt extremely over-dressed. At least she found her voice again. "I… I have to wake the kids!" she blurted and ran out of the room.

Draco looked after her, grinning. _Throw Granger off-balance first thing in the morning, check! _he thought. When she came back with her two kids, she wasn't blushing, nor was she off-balance anymore, but he noticed, to his great satisfaction, that she had changed from what she was wearing before, into her night gown and was now wearing the black silk dressing gown he provided her with.

As soon as they entered the kitchen and the children had said their 'good-mornings', Draco said: "Help yourself to anything you want, dinner will be after study time, and your there will be no breaks for eating in between! I'm going to wake Scorpius!" He was halfway out the door when he heard Hermione's voice.

"Wait, wait a minute! What study time?" she asked, a slight tone of annoyance in her tone.

"I didn't tell you? I'm expecting Rose and Hugo to join Scorpius in his learning. He has a very good private tutor! I thought you would be pleased!" he added innocently.

"Well… I am but-"

"So what's the problem then?" He grinned at her again and left the room. _Throw Granger off-balance second thing in the morning, check!_

Draco and Scorpius walked into the kitchen not even five minutes after. To Draco's surprise, as soon as Scorpius saw Hermione, he let go of his father's hand and ran to Hermione, jumping in her arms. Hermione was a bit taken aback, but she smiled.

"Hi, sweetheart, how did you sleep?" she asked him while putting him back down on the floor.

"I slept great!" answered Scorpius with a huge smile on his face. Draco smiled. He hadn't seen his boy so happy since Astoria's death.

The kitchen was quite big with a bog counter separating it into two spaces: the cooking space and the eating space. At the end of the counter, there always stood a tea-pot. Scorpius reached up for the tea-pot and carefully poured himself some tea, carefully balancing his mug on his knee. Draco would have stopped every other child, but Scorpius was doing it since he managed to first get Astoria to let him pour his own tea and he never spilled a single drop or broke the mug or the tea-pot. Once he was done, he placed the tea-pot back on the counter and his mug on the table and turned to Hermione:

"'Hermione, will you make me a sandwich? Please!" he asked.

Hermione smiled. "Of course I will! How do you like it?"

"Only butter and jam, thank you!"

Hermione did it and handed him the plate. Scorpius smiled and thanked. Then he sat down next to Draco.

"Mummy, will you make me my sandwich too?" Rose pleaded.

Hermione sighed but smiled. "Okay then."

"Please and thank you!" Rose said cheerfully. She waited for her sandwich and then sat down next to Scorpius.

"Mum, will you make me my sandwich?" Hugo asked.

At that moment, Hermione turned from the stove towards the table and Draco saw something flash in Hermione's eyes, something that he couldn't quite place, but something that certainly wasn't supposed to be there when a four-year-old boy asked his mother to make him a sandwich for breakfast. Could it have been loathing? But it passed as soon as it was there and Draco didn't have time to ponder on it because her response surprised her even more. It was hard and cold.

"You're big enough to make it yourself." Hugo's face fell considerably but nonetheless he obeyed and climbed on a chair to make his sandwich. Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. There was obviously something going on there, which he wasn't sure the little boy knew about, but it was there. Draco frowned and shook his head but returned to the paper, deciding to think about the Weasley-Granger obviously complicated relationships later.

* * *

When Hermione climbed out of the fireplace and the green flames late that night, the first thing she saw was Malfoy's pale, sharp face.

"Good you're back!" he said without pretence, "Scorpius wants you to sing him a lullaby!" He didn't even seem to notice the exhausted expression on her face. Hermione didn't say anything, just slowly climbed up the stairs to the second storey. Exhausted was too much a weak word. She could barely stand up, her hand ached from writing all day and her head still throbbed with pain from the morning conversation with the bank. But contrary to all these things, once she left the boy's room, satisfied with the fact that he fell asleep again, she didn't feel like going to sleep. She hesitated for a moment. Should she go to her room and go to sleep or should she go down to the drawing room and have a decent enough conversation with her sworn enemy, Draco Malfoy? She sighed and then, leaving her cloak in her room she slowly walked down to the drawing room.

Draco was sitting on one of the sofas, his back to her. He turned when he heard her footsteps. "Is he asleep?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "sit down! You won't stand on the threshold the whole night, will you?" She obeyed and he started the conversation. "So, did you have a pleasant day?" he said, almost falsely sweetly.

But Hermione had already given up brooding over why he was acting like he was acting, so she just answered. "You must be kidding right? First, I have a nice two-hour long argument with the head of the Muggle bank over the house, you know how- well, _you_ most probably don't know how they are, and then I spend my entire day at the office trying to concentrate on making something out of the speech that was given by Mrs. Whatever-her-name-is and trying to at least _look_ like I'm writing notes down. Seriously, you haven't heard a woman that has a more annoying shrieking voice!" she blurted out, her voice rising with every

Draco looked at her, shocked. "Whoa, Granger, you have to relax! Here," he said, walking to the liquor cabinet, filling up two glasses with Firewhisky and handing one to Hermione, "have some Firewhisky, it will help!"

Hermione shook her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was get drunk with someone like Malfoy. "No, I… I should go to bed…" She stood up and wanted to leave, but Draco was already there.

"Oh no, you don't! If you really wanted to go to bed, than you could've gone straight from Scorpius's room. But you went down here, which means, that you actually want my company," he grinned, "so here, have some Firewhisky." She sighed. It had logic, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to argue against logic. So she sat down again and took the glass from him. She took a sip. It burnt her throat, but she knew that once she drank more of it, it would numb her brain nicely. And maybe that was what she really wanted, to get drunk and not to think about anything. Draco's voice ripped her from her thoughts. "So, how come you married Weasley then?" Hermione looked at him incredulously; a you're-actually-asking-me-that look in her eyes. "What? I haven't talked to you since the end of the war- not that I talked to you much before- but we like this we can at least skip the small talk!"

Hermione shrugged and since she couldn't see a way out of it, she decided to answer. "Well, me and Ron, I guess we always knew that we're going to end up with each other. I don't know. And since Harry and Ginny married, it seemed like the right thing to do. I don't really know…"

"Wait, so you married him and you don't know why?"

"We were best friends for so long and it just felt right, nothing had to change…" Hermione put on a defending tone.

"But that's what marriage is supposed to be all about! Change! Do you see me marrying Pansy Parkinson?" he shuddered at the thought.

"But I had to marry Ron! No one else would marry him, and I had to protect him!"

"See, that's exactly what I've always admired… no, that's not the right word. I've always esteemed, but never understood. Your unfailing loyalty and love and devotion to both of them. You've always put them in front of you. That's so selfless that a Slytherin to the core like me could never understand. Especially Weasley." She noticed that he never called him Weasel nowadays. She finished her drink and Malfoy, as an absolute gentleman, leaned and refilled her glass immediately. "Potter, I can understand. He has something _and _he is the one who survived the curse after all. Even I wanted to be friends with him at the start. Before I realised how much of a selfless Gryffindor he really is," Malfoy added in disgust. "But Weasley? Really, I could never understand what you saw in him!"

Hermione was tired of defending herself, so she moved into offense instead. She finished the glass- an instant refill from Malfoy again- to give herself courage. _This is going to end badly_ flashed in her mind. But it was too late. It wasn't as if she was going to let Malfoy win the argument. "And so you're saying that your marriage with Astoria was the best thing that happened to you, because you didn't know her that well, are you?"

Malfoy's good humour immediately dropped. If he would have been able to control his thoughts and emotions at that moment he would have probably been happy to see Hermione attacking his argument, but he wasn't. He knew she was right, and he didn't like it. "No, I'm not saying that," he said through gritted teeth. He finished the glass and poured himself another. He wasn't going to let Granger, _Granger, _of all people, win the argument. "My marriage was different. It was arranged. An anomaly."

Hermione sucked in her breath in surprise. _An arranged marriage? Who does that nowadays? _She let the silence drop for a moment, mainly because she didn't know how to respond. She watched him instead. His face was hard, as if he didn't want to dwell on the past, on his marriage. But what about all the happy pictures of him and Astoria in the society pages of the Daily Prophet? But then again, looking around the house, there wasn't a single picture of them together, only of Scorpius. She had a picture of Ron and herself, so had Harry and Ginny, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur; they all had at least the picture of their wedding day somewhere in their living room. _Maybe their marriage wasn't so happy after all. _"Arranged?" she managed to whisper finally,

"Yes, arranged!" he snapped. He took another drink. "My father thought I was unable to pick a _suitable_," he almost spat the word, "pure-blood wife so he picked one out for me." There was an almost unbelievable amount of contempt in his voice. _Contempt? For his father? _Hermione couldn't imagine why.

"I… I'm sorry," she said quietly. Then, taking another drink, she said: "But you had a son and you obviously loved him very much, didn't that make you bond? Didn't you want another child?"

Draco sneered. "Yes we had a son. And that was out duty done!"

"Duty? What duty?"

"We produced a male heir, a pure-blood that would carry the name of Malfoy. That was the only thing we had to do, the only thing that my father wanted from me. Our duty was done. We wouldn't have looked at each other twice again if it not had been for Scorpius." Hermione was shocked. She took another drink. Another refill. She felt the drink already blunting her thoughts. Somewhere deep inside, a voice was telling her to go, before it was too late. But it was so blurry, that Hermione couldn't hear it clearly. It was easy to ignore it. "Not even the sex was good." Hermione looked at Malfoy, stunned. He was smiling darkly. _It's the alcohol talking, _she thought. She was sure that he wouldn't have said that if he was sober. He felt her gaze on him and looked up, straight into her eyes. "Tell me, Granger, how was the sex with Weasley?" his words were full of venom. "You have two bastards so it mustn't have been that bad!"

Something flickered in her eyes, as she drew an angry breath, something so quick that he didn't have time to indentify it. She wanted to speak, but he didn't let her. "Did you have to seek company elsewhere so your sexual desires were satisfied like I had to?" She didn't answer, just stared at him, shocked. But he didn't stop. "Tell me, did Weasley ever make you groan with pleasure? I bet he couldn't!" She wanted to answer, she wanted to yell at him for such an insulting comment, but she couldn't. Her vision was blurry. Then, all of a sudden, he was there, only inches away and she couldn't help but stare into the brilliant grey of his eyes. She felt his hands undo the top three buttons of her shirt, but she couldn't stop them. She thought that they were going to continue down, but they didn't. She felt him pulling the fabric of the open neckline sideways to uncover her shoulder. Then his eyes disappeared and a moment later she felt something warm and moist on her skin. It first circled around her collarbone, then traced its relief and finally continued its way up her neck. Everywhere it went it sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. Then it reached her earlobe. She groaned.

Draco reached her earlobe with his tongue. He leaned closer, licking it and grazing it with his teeth. His coolness was all gone and he felt as if he was going to burst from inside. _May I have sex with you? _but he said: "Do you like this?" he whispered.

Her breath was caught in her throat. "Yes you may," she answered as if reading his thoughts. Her words were slurred, but he could still hear what she said distinctly. He carefully slid his arms underneath her legs, and, moving even closer, hoisted her up, her legs on either side of his body. Her arms went around his neck as he stood up and starting moving slowly towards the staircase. But he missed the opening and instead pressed her back to the wall. He bent his head and led his tongue up her neck, along her chin and towards her mouth. He was just about to kiss her when he heard her say: "Don't kiss me!"

"What?"

"Don't kiss me! Kissing is a sign of love! Don't kiss me!" He would've thought she was drunk, but right at that moment, her voice sounded absolutely normal, not even a bit slurred, as if she didn't even have a taste of the Firewhisky. For a moment he was off-balance but then he nodded. He pressed her closer to him and carried her upstairs. Once they reached the master bedroom, he kicked the door closed.

**I hope you liked the chapter. I enjoyed writing it. Anyway, if you want to actually hear the lullaby (it really is a real lullaby, more of a French children's song) go to www. youtube .com/watch?v=pIc3qXC6ONc.**

**Please review! And have patience with the next chapter! :)**


	6. Chapter 6: Ronny

**Hi. This was one of the most boring chapters to write, especially the end. So I apologise if you don't like it, I just was impatient to get it over with. It's mainly because during the week I got an idea for another story, and I'm very impatient to start writing, but I vowed that I wouldn't before I finish this one. Anyway, I hope you won't be too disappointed, but everything (even this chapter) has a reason to be there. So, enjoy!**

Hermione bolted upright in the bed. Her thinking was still clouded by sleep when she looked around the room. But where was she? There certainly wasn't royal purple screaming at her from her surroundings. No there was… dark green. _Oh no!_ she thought as memories of the previous night came falling on her. She looked to her right and saw that her memories indeed were right. From under dark green silk blankets, she could see the platinum blond hair of her host on the bed next to her. She felt her stomach instantly tighten into a knot. _What have I done? _she asked herself, horrified. If the morning before it took her a moment to gather her surroundings, it certainly didn't know. She remembered crystal clearly what had happened the night before. Maybe it was the not strong, but certainly hard to miss headache, but she knew exactly, to every single second what had happened. Well, at least it wasn't a complete waste of time. She had to admit, however reluctantly, that the sex _had_ been good. _Better than with Ron, _she thought. And, considering his comments the night before, Draco Malfoy certainly wasn't disappointed with her either. She blushed at the thought. _God, what am I thinking? I have to get out of here before he wakes up! _Only then she realised that she actually had no clothes on. She blushed again. She looked around trying to make her eyes adjust even more. It was hard, the room was dark- there were even heavier curtains on the windows than in her room- and even the last flame from the fireplace had died out. Nevertheless she made out her crumpled robes in the corner of the bed and she reached for her wand, quietly accio-ing her dressing robe. It flew in with an almost silent swish and she hastily pulled it on. She tied it around her waist and sat down. It took her a second to realise that the quiet swishing of silk on silk wasn't done by her anymore.

She turned around abruptly, finding herself staring into two grey eyes that seem to shine into the darkness like a cats' and that were staring right back at her. She didn't know what to say, her voice gave out, and even if it didn't, she still wouldn't know what to say. She blushed. Yet however uncomfortable it was to stare into what looked like an unending greyness, she still couldn't look away. He seemed to sense her discomfort, yet he still didn't look away. After what seemed like years to her, he finally said, in a soft voice: "I won't say anything, if you won't say anything."

"Deal," she replied quietly.

* * *

Three months went by without anyone actually noticing it. Living in Malfoy Manor wasn't as bad as Hermione originally thought it would be. There was usually no sneering from Malfoy's side, nor any snapping or unwanted comments. He was being, Hermione had to admit, civil towards her. And he even seemed to find a liking in her children. Especially in Rose. He didn't like Hugo much and she suspected it was because of his likeness to Ron, which couldn't pass unnoticed. But Rose was a different story. Hermione was sure that if he had a daughter, he would want her to be exactly like Rosie. However annoying and uncomfortable and hurting for her pride it was, she had to admit that Malfoy wasn't making it harder for her. She wasn't quite ready to say that he had changed, because he sometimes had the impression, that his old self was lurking behind a disturbingly thin layer of facial expressions, but she was sure that with practice, that could be overcome. There was, of course, the question of repayment of this debt, but Hermione urged her mind not to think about it. It was hard enough to know that it would be at least another four to five months until she repaid all the debts her late husband had made and at least another three to collect enough money for her to be able to rent a small flat, taking into account that she would have to work overtime every night to do so, so she pushed hard to keep other thoughts of repayment out of her mind.

It would've helped her to know, of course, that Draco didn't wait for repayment, nor did he actually want any.

She was right in her thinking that he had developed a liking towards Rose, and even more in thinking that if he ever had a daughter, he would want her to be like Rose. Rose was everything a man like Malfoy wanted from a daughter. She was exceedingly bright, he thought, especially for a six-year-old, probably inheriting it from her mother, and he was able to have a fairly enlightening conversation with her, again comparing it to conversations with other children of her age. He would even admit, slightly unwillingly, that she was brighter than his son, the pure-blood. Where Scorpius was weak and whimpering for his mother, Rose was a strong child, able to solve most of the problems herself, and he could see, very reluctant in asking for help. She had a pride, even so young, and he liked that, because that was the only thing a pure-blood really needed.

He would've never admitted it, but Draco was very grateful to have her at the Manor. Maybe it was the fact that the three children never stopped making noise or just the comfort of knowing that he wasn't alone when they sat, night after night, in the drawing room after the children had been sent to bed. He never offered to give her a drink of anything other than elf-made wine and she never asked. She usually sat close to the fire, as if she needed to be warm all the time, a book in her lap- but surprisingly, he noticed that she never actually seemed to be reading it- and usually never even reaching the middle of her first glass before going to bed. They never spoke, but nonetheless it was a comfortable silence.

He continued to watch Hermione. At last, he admitted to himself that he was actually quite concerned with her. It wasn't only her strange shifts of mood that she sometimes had, or that strange something in her eyes. He had come to notice that these things only happened when Hugo was around and usually concerned him. But when Rose or Scorpius or even he said something, both the strange mood and glint in her eyes were gone and Draco found himself wondering if it had not been his own imagination. But it occurring time and time again, he accepted it as a fact, which lead him to feel something strange. Draco Malfoy had not been curious for a long time. But there was also the fact that the old Hermione Granger he had known was gone. There wasn't a spark in her eyes as there always had been when they were in school, her chocolate brown eyes looked lifeless. She usually never returned his arguments, she never fought and usually she just nodded and returned to what she was doing before being interrupter. It was disconcerting and annoying. However much he had become fond of the mini-Hermione, it wasn't like he could have a levelled argument with her.

And so one crappy Saturday morning, his patience with the dead and un-returning Hermione ran out.

Hermione had had a crappy week, to say the least. It was Saturday and her week had been one of the worst she had yet gone through. She had worked harder than before, she had taken more overtimes and she was completely exhausted. It didn't help that Hugo had gotten himself ill and had a fever which meant that he couldn't sleep during the night, which meant that Hermione didn't close her eyes for more than ten minutes that night.

Draco hadn't had the best week either, though it was certainly far less bad than Hermione's. But, to make things even worse, he had been impatient for a long time, and Malfoys don't like being patient, so when he saw her sitting in the drawing staring into space once again, the anger, frustration and annoyance over her just boiled up in him and there was no way of keeping them hidden. Maybe the worst part of it for Hermione was, that she didn't know that he was impatient, being brought up to hide his feelings.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Granger?" She looked up, incomprehensibly. "You are sitting here again with that pathetic empty look in your eyes, and you know what? I'm sick of it! You don't even answer my arguments anymore!" he started yelling at her.

"What is wrong with me? What do you think is wrong with me?" She stood up and finally a flicker of life lit up in her eyes. They looked like back at school, when she didn't miss a chance to argue with him. He almost smiled. That was the Granger he knew. "I have been working my _arse_ off for something I _didn't_ do because I have to repay the debts that my idiotic _late_ husband made, not even bothering to tell me! And now he's dead and I have to do what he was supposed to. I have worked overtime for the past month and I'm exhausted! Plus the son that I-" he was almost sure that she was going to say something but she managed to hold it inside her. And I have to live in _your_ house!" she yelled back at him.

"Yes, exactly, you're living in my house so I would expect you to at least share a conversation with me once in a while!"

"Yes, exactly, I'm living in _your_ house, Malfoy! _Your_ house! Do you know how that makes me feel, having to receive a favour from one of my biggest enemies? You know, pure-bloods aren't the only ones who have a pride!"

That angered him. Did she think that he didn't know that she had a pride? "You didn't have to accept it," he spat.

He saw he hit the bull's eye. Her eyes darkened with fury and she clenched her fists at her side. "You think I had a choice?" she snarled. "You think I would be here if I didn't have to? You're still my arch enemy!" He didn't say anything. And that was bad for him. She shook her head in disgust. "I thought you had changed. But no, you're still the same son-of-a-bitch that you were back in school!" she didn't turn away from him- she obviously wanted a reply.

He granted her request. "And you're still that annoying bitch that you always were!" he said, his words full of venom.

Her jaw tightened. "Arsehole!" He knew what insult she would use next, he could feel it coming.

That was why he said: "Mudblood!"

He could feel the word on her tongue, she opened her mouth to say it, but then as quickly as the flicker of life came, it was gone and he was staring into her vacant eyes again. She turned away from him and left the drawing room through the rarely opened French window, the most horribly blank expression on her face. And just because he could feel that one word the he thought was going to come, that one word that would have caused as much damage to him as Mudblood caused her, the simple 10-letter word, Deatheater.

He sighed. He really didn't want it ending like that. Then again, he should've thought better than to attack her like this. She probably didn't even know that he had been annoyed her. He was brought up to hide his feelings almost too well. _How terribly inconvenient, _he thought, the sarcasm leaking out of his thoughts.

Yet still, her blank expression shocked her. Over the years in school, she had seen her with many expressions: angry, annoyed, happy, nervous, disgusted, contemptuous, scared and most, if not all, the others. But he had never seen her with a blank expression. Sure, he had seen her with a stone face, hiding emotions, like he did. But this was different. It was like she had been given a Dementor's kiss- not that he could judge, but he always assumed that that's what it would look like- like there was nothing inside her anymore. He then realised that she was even more emotionally drained than he had originally thought when he had first saw her. To him it looked like she was working on the sheer force of will, which didn't last long, nor did it end well. And that was when he decided that he would help her. This decision was, of course, entirely selfish. It was never a good thing to witness a mental breakdown and he couldn't even imagine what it would cost him, from the material and immaterial point of view.

And he would have to apologise to her first. The thought of it made him shudder. He willed himself to accept it and left the room the same way she had.

* * *

Even though he had intended on finding her when he originally left the darkness of the house, he found that it was easier said than done. The grounds that belonged to Malfoy Manor were extensive, and he found that the fact that there was a large maze covering a big portion of them didn't help at all. In the end he gave up and just enjoyed the hade and coolness as he wondered through the maze. It reminded him of old times, times when he was still young, at Hogwarts, when the Dark Lord was still weak, when he used to wander in the maze days at a time, escaping from the annoying voice of his father, when nothing seemed important and nothing mattered.

After almost three hours of endless, yet comfortable, walking, he was surprised to be suddenly disturbed by voices. He was too far to distinguish what they were saying, but he could clearly hear that it was Hermione and Rose who were speaking. He looked up to see that he was at the other end of the grounds, close to one of the entrances of the maze, close to the unused pasture. He accelerated his steps and stopped only when he reached the entrance to the maze. He peered around it carefully. Sure enough, Hermione was standing there, his back to him, securing Rose, who was sitting on the fence around the pasture, from falling.

"…it's where you usually have horses graze." Hermione was saying.

"But I don't see any horses!"

"Apparently the Malfoys don't keep any around anymore."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Draco." Rose didn't reply anything, but Draco assumed she had nodded. "You know, Rosie," Hermione continued dreamily after a moment, "When I was little, I always wanted a horse of my own!"

"Really?" the girl asked, obviously interested.

Draco almost felt Hermione smile. "Yes."

"So why didn't you have one?"

"Well, we lived in the city and my parents, your grandparents didn't think it was a good idea to have a horse and have nowhere to keep it. And then I got my letter from Hogwarts which meant that there really was no space for a horse, because I spent nearly the whole year at school. And after that, when I graduated, it hadn't really occurred to me to get one, since I married your father and then I had you and Hugo and, I don't know, eventually I guess I just forgot about it." Rose didn't respond and Hermione continued. "But I know how to ride one!"

"Really?"

"Yes. Even though I couldn't have a horse of my own, I managed to convince my parents to let me take riding exercises in the stables outside the city. I took care of a horse there. He was beautiful. I remember it like it was yesterday. His name was Altair. He was entirely white except for a black star between his eyes. He was an Arabian stallion. A perfect example. So intelligent and gentle. I loved him."

Draco didn't hear what Rose had replied. He was already walking back to the Manor, smiling for himself. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

* * *

During the next week, it had almost been as if they were back in school except that they had to interact much more often, not even Malfoy Manor was as big as Hogwarts after all. The only difference was that there weren't angry stares, or insults, just complete disregard. She didn't talk to him unless it was necessary, she didn't look at him and she certainly didn't spend her evenings with him. And she left the room every time it meant she would have to be alone with him. It would have been more uncomfortable if Draco didn't know how to get her to stop being angry anymore, but he did. He was only waiting for a good time to act.

And the good time came exactly a week later from the argument.

That Saturday was a spitting image of the first one. It was bright and sunny and warm, especially for England, and the children ran out of the house as soon as they were out of their pyjamas. He had watched her carefully throughout the morning. She seemed in a better mood than the week before, which he counted as luck, a not even the circles under her eyes were that dark. She was sitting on one of the sofas, deep in the last edition of Transfiguration Today. He approached her quietly, he was feeling almost like his former Potions professor, Snape always knew how to sneak up on people when they weren't paying attention, and waited for her to notice that he was there. It took her quite a while and he had some time to look at her. Her hair was wrapped in bun at the top of her head and she was wearing a pretty, but Muggle, white summer dress. He didn't have time to take in anything else; her head suddenly snapped up and he found himself staring into slightly annoyed, but at least no blank, chocolate brown eyes of Hermione Granger. She hissed and started getting up, but he stopped her.

"I know that you're angry with me, and I understand. I was an arsehole and I'm going to apologise, but not just yet. Now, I really want you to come with me. I really want to show you something." When she said nothing, he added "Please!"

Her eyes softened a fraction and with a sigh, she nodded.

He helped her up and led her out of the house onto the grounds. He had been preparing for this for the last week and he had even tried out several routes of getting from the house to the pasture, until he had to acknowledge that the fastest way was to go through the maze. His pace was relatively fast, but he still looked over his shoulder now and then to see if she was still behind him. If she was curious to know where they were going, she wasn't letting it show. Finally they arrived to the end of the maze. Draco slowed his pace and stepped out of the shade into the blazing sunlight. He took a few steps towards the pasture and felt her stop dead in her tracks. He smiled. He walked up to the fence of the pasture and then turned to look at her. She was staring not at him, but past him, only shock showing on her face. He knew what she was staring at. Right next to him stood a beautiful Arabian stallion, all white except for his muzzle which was an almost black colour. Like in a daze, she took the few more steps towards the horse and started stroking his nose. There was a look of plain pleasure in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes!" she breathed.

Suddenly a weight, that he hadn't even known to be there, lifted from his shoulders. "You like him?"

She just shook her head, unable to speak.

"His name is Ronny." _How ironic. _She turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "I didn't choose the name!" he said, his tone mock-defence.

"He looks almost like…" her voice trailed of, but he finished the sentence.

"Altair, yes." It earned him another raised eyebrow. "I overheard your conversation with Rose about horses the other day. I apologise. I was rude," he added. "And that's because he's Altair's grand-son. I wanted to go for Altair originally, but I was sorry to learn that he died."

"Nothing surprising really. He would've been quite old." And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, she planted a kiss on his cheek. He was shocked, but didn't have time to respond. In one swift move, she climbed over the fence and hopped onto Ronny's back.

He was surprised how graceful she looked on horseback and that she didn't even need a saddle, as he watched her gallop away.

**I hope you weren't too disappointed. I'm sorry if I wrote something wrong, I never really get close to horses, but they are beautiful creatures. So feel free to correct me. And if you want to know, I got the inspiration for the horse in Natasha Bedingfield's song Wild Horses. So listen to it, if you want, I like it. I promise the next chapter will be more exciting! Review and enjoy!**


	7. Chapter 7: Tears, Candles and A Test

**Hi. This is a very short chapter, but I think quite packed. I hope my friends how keep harassing me to write (you know who you are!) will like it.**

Over the next week, it was as if Hermione had suddenly risen from a grave. She was all smiles for everyone, including Draco, and the circles under her eyes were only slightly visible now. She was still pale, but after riding on Ronny, her cheeks always got a delicate rosy blush. Draco did notice, however, that she was even colder towards her son Hugo. And no matter how much he strained his mind over it, he couldn't come up with a pleasing explanation to why it was so. At first he thought it was sadness, because Hugo looked so much like Ron, but after a while he left that idea. Her expression certainly wasn't sad when she looked at the boy. It was, somewhat, cold. But why would Hermione be cold towards her son, when he adored her daughter, Draco just couldn't understand. And plus, he didn't think that Harry or Ginny knew or ever realised it. It was just a feeling, but he sensed it was true. He was determined to find out why it was so.

About two weeks after the horse arrived, the September weather, changing abruptly from extremely summery to extremely autumny- from very hot and sunny to very cold and rainy- made everyone stay inside for the day. It was a Saturday, and the children decided to play some kind of Muggle card game. Miau-miau, it was called or something like that. Draco didn't mind his son playing Muggle card games, not anymore, but when the children wanted to join him in the game, he first refused but after almost five minutes of constant begging and puppy eyes, he gave him, with the sole condition that Hermione would play too. And that was when he realised that she wasn't in the drawing room with them. They called her together, but she didn't answer. After a moment of slightly uneasy silence, Draco told the children, that she's probably closed the door to her room and didn't hear them, so he would go find her and meanwhile they would start a game without them.

The children agreed and Draco made his was up the stairs. He wouldn't admit it, but he _was _a bit worried. Hermione seemed rather tense and out of sorts during breakfast, but he just associated it with the fact that she had a hard day at work the day before and didn't sleep well. But as he entered the corridor on the second storey, he wasn't so sure anymore. It wasn't like Hermione to go up to her room instead of being with her children.

He stopped outside Hermione's door. It was slightly ajar, which would make her hear them calling. He took a deep breath and knocked. When no one answered, he looked inside. The room was empty. His brow furrowed as he stepped inside to take a better look. "Granger?" he called. Then he noticed the closed door of the bathroom. He walked to them, the thick carpet muffling his footsteps. He stopped a few feet from them at the sound of a muffled cry. "Granger?" he called again, "Are you alright?" There was no answer, only another whimper. He took a few steps forward and took the door by the handle. It was locked. He frowned as he took his wand out of his robes and muttered "Alohomora!" under his breath. The door immediately flew open.

He couldn't see anything. The small window in the bathroom was covered with something and the small chandelier wasn't lit. He could only see the outline of her form and even that was somewhat deformed. But, what he could clearly hear, where her sobs. He wanted to help her, to know what had happened, but that wouldn't do without some light. He flicked his wand and a single candle on the chandelier lit, giving off just enough light. She was sitting on the floor, her legs beneath her, with her back to him. He could see her shaking. He kneeled beside her and gently took her by her shoulders.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" he asked softly. At this, she started crying harder, shaking even more.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. Thankfully, he was spared. After a moment, Hermione turned to him slightly- he couldn't see her face, her hair was making a curtain- and in a trembling hand handed him something. The something was about six inches long and thin- a wand?- and white. So not a wand. He took it out of her trembling hand and examined it. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not see the details. With an impatient grunt, he flicked his wand once more and four more candles lit up. Now he could see better. He could see that the thing was irregularly shaped: it was thinner at one end than at the other. He turned it around. There were two pink vertical lines in the middle. She didn't have to tell him what it was. Even though he wasn't a Muggle, in fact quite the opposite, he knew what it was.

"Oh." Draco said. At this, Hermione turned around to face him. Her face was still in shadow, but he could see the wetness of her cheeks as the light reflected from it. "You are…?" he let the question trail of.

Hermione sighed raggedly and, gathering her strength, she said, in a small voice: "Yes, I'm pregnant."

He looked into the place where her eyes were. "Mine or Weasley's?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." She started crying again. Draco was overwhelmed by pity for this young woman. Not even the constant burn was so strong anymore. He gently pressed her head to his chest and let her cry on him.

When her crying quietened down a little, he decided it was time for them to go downstairs. They couldn't spend the whole day sitting on the bathroom floor. He sat up and then kneeled, gently pulling her up with him. "Come on, you can't sit here and sob all day. Think about-" They were already halfway up to standing when Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and stopped his speech. She scrambled out of his hold towards the toilet. He let go and she ran to the lavatory bowl and bent her head over it. Normally, he would've just left, but this time, he quickly walked over and caught her hair into one hand, pulling it out of her face and supporting her weight with the other, while she threw up the contents of her stomach in a bout of morning sickness.

**I hope you liked it. The name of the chapter is kind of strange but it related with it at least a little and I didn't want to give anything away. I don't know when the next chapter will be, or what will be in it- I only have a rough outline of the upcoming events- but the week after the next we have holidays which means plenty time to write. Though we will be going to the mountains, where there is no internet connection, but I'll have my laptop with me, so I'll write alot even though I won't post anything.**

**Anyway, please, REVIEW! It makes me happy to read your comments, even constructive criticism is welcome! **


	8. Chapter 8: The Memory

**Hi! So, I'm back and with me all the remaining chapters of this fanfic. I'll be posting them every 2 to 3 days. This chapter's maybe even a M, so be warned and enjoy!**

She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to think, she didn't know what to say. She didn't understand how this could've happened to her. She had always been the most careful one, the most reliable one, the one that never did anything wrong. And now she didn't have any money and she was living on the good will of her greatest enemy. Oh yes, and one more thing. She had slept with him and now she was maybe carrying his child. Or her dead husband's child. She didn't know which possibility scared her more. And then there was another thing which she didn't know what to think about: the way that Draco Malfoy acted towards and around her. When he gave her the horse, she thought, okay, fine, he's just trying to make up after the argument. But how he acted when he found her in the bathroom, that was really beyond her comprehension. He was _kind _to her, something that during their Hogwarts days, she would've never thought possible. Malfoy being kind to a Gryffindor, particularly one from the Golden Trio, that was about as possible as making Professor Snape wash his hair, wear pink and smile all at the same time. Basically, something that just _didn't_ happen. It had taken her quite a big part of self-control and self-persuasion just to accept without arguing that Harry had let his family off without any sort of punishment, not even for Lucius. She _wanted_ to believe that he had changed, that he was kind without any sort of higher, or let's say, lower, motive, but she was too prejudiced against him to do that. But was there any other more plausible explanation than that he had actually changed? And, thinking about it, it wasn't so impossible after all. People only change for love. She doubted he changed for the love of his late wife, after what he had said that one unforgettable night, but Hermione could see that he loved his son, Scorpius, maybe even more than anything else in the world. He had a firm hand on him, to be sure, but he still loved him. Maybe he really had changed.

Hermione wasn't the only one thinking about what had happened during the past months. Draco watched her. She seemed distracted most of the time. She wasn't as lifeless as she had been before, but not as happy as she had been after he had given her the horse. She continued to ride him, they even had a couple of nice rides together, but she wasn't all smiled anymore. Most of the time she seemed to be brooding over something, always that unfocused expression in her eyes, one hand on her pregnant belly, and always, _always, _playing distractedly with a silvery vial. And the strangest part of it was that she would always hide the vial in her robes whenever someone came nearby. He had to watch her from a distance to actually be able to discern her customs, and yet that prevented him from defying what the vial was and what was in it. He frowned every time she hid the vial from him, but he never asked her about it. It was none of his business, and he would be a poor host if he wouldn't let his guests have their privacy.

Hermione was once again brooding over Draco's new character over her cup of tea that morning, when the shrill voice of her daughter pulled her out of her reverie.

"Muuuummy! Today is our birthday party!" Rose came running into the kitchen, a wide excited smile plastered on her face, her ginger curls flying around her face.

A second later her brother came after her, jumping on his mother and nearly pushing her off her chair. "I can't wait! It's going to be aweeeesome! Jamie and Al and Lily will come, right?"

Only Draco could see how in a matter of seconds, Hermione had become frighteningly pale, almost looking like she would faint.

When she didn't respond, Rose added her own "Right, Mum?" There was a tiny hint of doubt in her voice.

Hermione blinked and seemed to compose herself in a matter of seconds. "Yes, of course," she said, her voice unnaturally unemotional. She reminded him of his own mother at that second. "But now, Rose, what did I tell you about brushing you hair, and Hugo, go find your other sock! Now!" she added strictly. When her children left the room, still singing to themselves, because nothing could worsen their mood on such a happy day, she considerably relaxed, picking up the tea cup with a shaking hand and taking a sip.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Draco asked softly. She looked at him with a calculating look. But his voice wasn't mocking at all, he wasn't trying to make fun of her or was shocked by the fact that she had forgotten about her children's birthdays', it was almost compassionate.

Hermione bit her lip, nodding. "But I can't not go to work, I can't afford that, literally! I just don't have the means to organise that party!" she whispered, scared that if she raised the volume of her voice, it would break.

"I'll do it!" Draco offered suddenly.

Hermione, who had meanwhile lowered her head, looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I'll do it. My whole day is free; just tell me what you need to buy! It can't be that hard, and I'll have Dottie to help me!"

She looked at him incredulously, but deciding that she didn't have the time or the means to brood over why he was doing it, she nodded. "Okay." She then launched into a not-so-simple plan. There was only Harry, Ginny and their children to be invited- they'd go for an annual lunch to the Burrow to celebrate with the rest of the Weasley clan on Sunday- and she would send the invitation via owl from work. The decorations were to be red and blue, they could either have the party outside- the weather was fairly warm- or in the drawing room. She would write him a list of all the decorations needed. For Rose, he would have to go to the Diagon Alley and buy her a doll, any kind would suffice, preferably with long blond hair, she trusted his good opinion and his knowledge of the girl. She had a present for Hugo. A cake was to be baked, but not with too much cream. She would come at four o'clock, flooing herself directly to the kitchen, where the cake was to be prepared with the candles- 6 for Rose and 4 for Hugo- she would light them and then come into the drawing with the cake. They were all to be there.

With these instructions and a hasty goodbye for Rose, Hugo and Scorpius who had nearly crashed into her in the kitchen door, she left for the Ministry.

At 4 o'clock sharp, Draco looked at the old grandfather clock standing in the corner of the drawing. He had just had the most enlightening conversation about the Auror office with Potter, whilst the children- James, Albus and Lily had taken a quick liking in Scorpius, just like Rose and Hugo had done, and Draco was glad for it- were playing catch around the coffee table which where the presents were waiting. Every now and then, Rose and Hugo shot a nervous glance towards the table, he noticed. During one of these nervous glances, Hugo bumped into a table, knocking over the antique vase that was standing on top of it. Thankfully, Ginny came to the rescue, leaving the vase hovering in mid-air with a well-placed levitating spell. At that same moment, Hermione came into the room with the cake in her hands. The ten candles were shining brightly, six on the pink and four on the blue side of it and the children's attention was entirely caught by it. They all crowded around as Hermione tried to place the cake on the coffee table. Harry and Ginny stood around her too, and all of them sang a 'Happy Birthday' to the two toastees. After the candles were blown out, even before the cake was eaten, it was time for the presents to be given. Draco watched as Hermione gave Rose her two presents, then Hugo the one from the Potters…

"What about my other present?" Hugo asked his mother amidst all the chaos. Nobody, except for Hermione and Draco were paying attention to him. _This is where she's going to take out the present she told me about in the morning, _Draco thought. But then he saw her expression, that expression that she had the time when Hugo wanted something from her, the expression that Draco couldn't figure out. And Draco knew what was going to happen. She was going to say that he already got a present, so he should stop whining. Silent anger welled up in him. No, he was going to prevent the humiliation of the little boy, however much he didn't like him as much as he liked Rose. But no one deserved this. Not even Ron would have.

"Here's your present, Hugo, I forgot to put it on the pile!" he said, handing the wrapped box to the boy. The latter lightened up and went to join his sister in opening their gifts. Draco had bought the gift when he was buying Rose's doll and decided to keep it for his own son, but now was glad to save the conscience of the little child.

He sent Hermione a pointed look at which she blushed and turned away. She would have to explain this to him.

Draco fumed with silent anger during the whole rest of the party. Finally, the Potters were gone, the cake eaten and the children were enjoying their new toys with Scorpius and Draco almost literally dragged Hermione out of the drawing room and into the library. It was a beautiful room, walls were full of books, and decorated the same way as the drawing room, only the green was more subtle, but he wouldn't let Granger get distracted.

"So what's the deal with you and Hugo?" he said through gritted teeth. She looked at him, her eyes full of fear and tears. She blinked, possibly to chase the tears away, but only made them spill over the brim of her eyes. The sight of her made him soften, the anger gone. "So?" he prompted softly.

With a shaking hand, she reached into her robes and took out the silvery vial. Draco barely hid his excitement. Could he be so lucky as to get to know more than one of her secrets at the same time? He inspected the vial as she brought it closer to him. The silver seemed to be swirling around, now and again a different colour appearing and disappearing so fast that it made him think that maybe it was a mirage. "Do you have a pensieve?" she whispered, again scared that her voice would break. Draco sucked in a breath of comprehension. Of course, the silver was memories! He had seen his father taking out a memory from his head once, but he had never actually been inside a pensieve to see the memory.

He nodded and let her towards a glass cabinet. There, on one shelf, lay a small stone basin, smaller than the one Dumbledore had had. It was also decorated, but not with runes, with snakes and other Slytherin-like motives. Hermione uncorked the vial and the silvery gas-like liquid spilled into the basin. And suddenly, Draco found himself falling headlong into the basin.

He collected himself from the floor and looked around himself. He was in a kitchen, about the same size as the one in the Manor. There was a round table in the middle of it and Hermione was sitting at it. She looked young, younger than now. Her hair was more bushy, her cheeks more full. There was only a single candle lit and she was sitting and staring into it. Draco looked around himself. There was a clock on the wall showing 2 o'clock. Judging by the fact that it was dark outside the windows, it was 2 in the morning. Suddenly, there was a noise and a light outside the back door. Hermione bolted upright and ran to open the door. Her late husband, Ron, was standing outside, and obviously drunk. He stared at her with a blank expression.

"R-ron?" Hermione asked, obviously scared, "Are you okay?"

His expression changed into a furious one as he charged inside, pushing her into the house. Draco flinched when the odour of cheap stale gin hit him. He could only imagine how dreadful it had to be for Hermione, who was glued to her husband. He kicked the door closed behind him so hard that the glass nearly broke. Then he pushed her against the counter and started stripping off her clothes, taking off his trousers as he did so. Draco face was contorted in disgust and fury. He knew what Ron was going to do.

"No!" Hermione screamed. "No, Ron! You can't!"

"I can do whatever I want!" Ron answered through gritted teeth as he pushed himself inside her.

"No Ron! I'm pregnant!"

He looked at her, disgustedly. "Probably some bastard's child anyway!" he said and spit into her face. Draco turned away in disgust. He flinched every time Hermione screamed because he knew it meant Ron pushing even harder. The scene dissolved into blackness just as Ron left the kitchen, staggering: Hermione had fainted.

When she woke up a second later- actually it was a couple of hours later- the sun was already up. Draco looked at Hermione lying on the floor. She was stripped naked, lying in a pool of blood. In the middle of that pool of blood was something small and white. As she collected herself, silent tears flowing down her cheeks, she saw the little white thing and only had enough time to turn and not vomit into the blood. Draco wanted to do something, to help her, forgetting that he was inside a memory, when he felt himself being pulled up and up…

…and a second later landed on the floor of the Malfoy Manor library. He immediately turned to Hermione who was kneeling on the floor, shaking and crying. Even before he knew what he was going, he put his arms around her. She buried her head into his chest and sobbed quietly. He stroked her hair soothingly but was surprised by the sudden movement. She lifted her head, her chocolate eyes boring into his grey ones.

"That's how I lost my second child," she whispered. "He slept with me again, and that was how Hugo was… made. But that was only to replace the child I was carrying. He never loved him. And I can't love Hugo as much as Rose. He was made out of pain." She buried her head in his chest and cried.


	9. Chapter 9: Purebloods

**Hi! Another chapter, and only 2 more to go! Enjoy! And don't forget R&R! :)**

He couldn't believe that even someone like Weasel could do something as horrible as what he had seen in the memory. After she had calmed down a little, Hermione had told him that taking the memory out of her head, lessened the pain a little. She was still aware of the memory but she couldn't go through it, her mind couldn't go over it over and over again and it didn't hurt so much. Of course, everywhere she went the knowledge of the fact that she had lost her child, _their _child because of him. And however much she tried, she just couldn't love Hugo as much as she should have loved him, she just couldn't get it out of her mind that he was just there to replace the baby she had carried and miscarried because of an unwanted sexual intercourse with her husband.

After crying into his chest, she had fallen asleep in his arms and he had carried her into her own bed. And, despite himself, he had to marvel over her still smooth face. There wasn't one single wrinkle in her almost angelic face. He couldn't understand how that was possible. After everything that she had gone through- he could've gone through his one life a thousand times and still his suffering wouldn't reach a tenth of hers- there wasn't a crease on her face. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must've been like. However much his marriage hadn't been full of love, hers had been much worse.

Leaving her bedroom, he wondered what it would've been like if he had been married to Hermione instead of Astoria.

October came and with it even worse weather than in September. It was bitterly cold, the fogs were thick and there wasn't one day without rain. However, the mood inside the Manor was pleasant and warm. It was part Hermione's doing too. She led the children to a great idea of putting on a play on All Hallows' Eve. Three was a bit too little to do this convincingly, so Draco suggested that they invite the Potters over since six children would surely make a nice party. Hermione was slightly surprised by this suggestion but she gladly succumbed to it and immediately conveyed the message to Harry and Ginny. These also accepted which meant that James, Albus and Lily came to the Manor every single evening for a whole month before Halloween.

On the fore-mentioned evening, everyone gathered in the Malfoy Manor drawing room and the children started their little play. Hermione and Ginny, with some help from Dottie, even made them costumes. Draco couldn't really concentrate on what the play was about, but he laughed at all the right places which made it believable that he was enjoying himself. Meanwhile he watched Hermione. They hadn't spoken about what had happened to her since the afternoon of the birthday party, but she seemed relieved that she could finally tell someone. She even seemed to be happier than before. And right now, a smile was playing on her lips as she watched her children enjoy themselves. He was jealous of her, so jealous that she could enjoy such simple joys of life when he couldn't. She caught his eye and smiled at him. He smiled a sad smile back. She frowned a little but then returned back to the play.

Once the play was over, the Potters returned back to their house and the children asleep, Draco and Hermione met in the drawing room as was their custom. Hermione had only a glass of pumpkin juice, whilst Draco contented himself with a glass of elf-made wine. Draco soon broke the comfortable silence.

"I envy you!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione almost spat out the pumpkin juice she had in her mouth. "How can someone like you, who has everything, envy someone like me?"

"I envy you, because you can enjoy life!" She looked at him not understanding. "I'll try to explain." He took a deep breath. "I have been brought up to be everything a pure-blood should be. A gentleman, who never speaks what's on his mind, who acts in his best interests and who never, never, shows his true feelings. And I have done all these things for so long, especially hiding my feelings, that I don't even know if I even have feelings anymore, if I can feel anything anymore!"

Hermione looked him in the eyes and then smiled. "Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"

"Excuse me? What does this have to do with me feeling or not?"

"Let me finish! Have you ever heard of Occlumency or not?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, as you know then, Occlumency is the art of keeping your thoughts to yourself, if I can say it like that. You build a wall and behind that wall you keep all the thoughts that you don't want other people to know. You have built a wall like that in your mind. But there's always a door that can open, always a crack in that wall that can let the feelings through. The only thing you have to do is find that door and open it. It won't be easy! But remember, there's no shame in not knowing and that people become learned is a result of effort! You only have to find that door!" She smiled. "Goodnight Draco!" she finished her pumpkin juice and started her way to the stairs.

"Wait, Hermione!"

She turned around. "Yes?"

He seemed a bit uneasy. "Every… every first of November, me and my… acquaintances, we… we have a party, a gathering. And…"

"They don't know, do they, about me and my children?"

"No they don't," he admitted.

"Don't worry; we'll go visit Harry or something!"

"No, no, just, keep to the second storey of the house. I will tell them sooner or later but…"

"I understand, don't worry. I will keep the kids upstairs with me. They won't make any noise, I promise!" With that, she turned around and left him.

The next day, Draco received Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle as warmly as could be expected. He hadn't seen them since Astoria's funeral, and to be honest, he hadn't missed their company. Not when Hermione was around, anyway. He soon found out that their remarks were old, their stories boring, their complaints just complaints, things he could do nothing about. Plus they had remarks about the fact that he hadn't gone out much since the death of his wife and that he had become a boring and bitter old man. Draco found himself nearly telling them that he didn't need to go out, that he had a beautiful woman at home, Hermione.

"Oh come on, Drake, you haven't been out for a long time, come with us!" Blaise was saying for the thousandth time. They were sitting in the drawing, all of them a glass of Firewhisky at hand, except for Draco. He had found out that after that unforgettable night with Hermione, Firewhisky didn't taste as it should.

"Imagine getting laid, Draco!" Theo added.

Draco groaned inwardly, but didn't respond. "Oh come on, boys, stop it!" came the whiny voice of Pansy Parkinson, "Can't you see that you're annoying him to death? And plus, he doesn't need to go out; he has _me_, right here, right, Drakey?" and with that, she glued her lips to his.

Even before he was able to push her away, they all heard a gasp coming from the staircase. Draco pushed Pansy away with such force that she nearly fell off the sofa and looked towards the staircase. There, to his horror, Hermione was standing, an expression of shock and horror and _pain_ on her face. She pursed her lips as tears glimmered in her eyes. Muttering an "I see!" she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs.

Draco stared after her in horror. He was petrified by the look in her eyes, by the pain, the same pain that was there after Ron had raped her, a pain he didn't want her to feel again. He wanted to run after her, but his pathetic 'friends' stopped him.

"So that's what you were hiding, is it?" Theo said with disgust. "A Mudblood?"

"Don't call her a Mudblood!" Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Ah, I'm sorry Drakey, you've just lost your Mudblood whore!" Pansy said even I her most whining voice. They erupted in laughter. "But don't worry, you still have me! I'm better! I'm a pureblood!" Draco nearly slapped her.

"To hell with pure-bloods!" he spat and ran up the stairs.

But it was too late, they were gone. He looked into Hermione's room, into Hugo's, into Rose's. There things were gone and so were they. It looked as though their rooms weren't inhabited in the first place. He returned downstairs, to find his 'friends' were still there. A wave of anger swelled up inside him at the sight of their laughing faces.

"Out! Get out, all of you and don't come back!" he yelled.

The laughter stopped immediately. "Draco-"

"Didn't you hear? I said out!"

It wasn't until the Manor was empty except for him and his son that Draco realised that the hating burn he felt inside him when he looked at Hermione had changed. It didn't want to rise and show, it wanted to destroy him. He wanted to protect her from people like Ron, he wanted to hold her in his arms, he wanted to wake up next to her every morning. It had changed to love.


	10. Chapter 10: Drunk

**Hi! The last chapter before the epilogue. I hope you like it. R&R! :)**

**And, just a quick reminder, you might want to read chapter 5 again, it will help you understand the meaning of the last part!**

"Daddy, where did Rose and Hugo and 'Mione go?" Scorpius's whiny voice dragged Draco out of staring at the front door. He had thrown out his not-friends-anymore without hearing a word of their protests – not that they said much at his fierce expression – and now was alone with Scorpius and Dottie. Alone, totally alone. He hadn't been alone in the Manor since Astoria's death and the house suddenly felt awfully empty. "Daddy?" His son tugged at Draco's robes when he didn't answer.

Draco turned around abruptly making Scorpius nearly fall to the ground. "Stop asking questions! What did I tell you about being nosy?" Draco snapped but immediately fell guilty when he saw Scorpius' hurt expression.

"I'm sorry, Father!" Scorpius immediately apologised quietly.

"No, you don't have to apologise. It's my fault, I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's not your fault. I don't know where they went and I don't know if they're ever coming back." He sighed at his son's sad expression. He took him by the arm and walked him back into the drawing room. "You know what? What if you went to see Grandmother and Grandfather Greengrass for a while? Wouldn't that be nice?" Draco needed to get Scorpius out of the way. He wouldn't like Scorpius to see his father in an undignified state.

At Draco's suggestion, Scorpius didn't look very happy, but went upstairs to pack his toys anyway. Draco then appointed Dottie to pack his clothes and knelt down the fireplace. Almost immediately, the head of his father-in-law appeared in the midst of the green flames.

"Ah, Draco, how are you doing?" his father's-in-law voice came.

"Very well, thank you. And you and Madam?"

"We are doing very well too, considering the circumstances! How's Scorpius?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about him. Would you mind taking him for the night? I… I have an important appointment and I can't leave him alone in the house!"

"Well of course! Send him over by the floo; we'll be happy to have him!"

"I thank you very much." Draco said and bowed his head slightly. "I'll send him over right now!" He ended the floo-call and called for his son. He came downstairs, his bags hovering after him. After Draco had made him promise to be on his best behaviour and kissed him on the forehead, he sent Scorpius away. After that, he made sure to make it clear to the house-elf not to come to the house before he called, not even to do dinner and then he was completely alone. Alone, except for a bottle of Firewhisky that was. He was way pass the glass stage by now, and drank straight from the bottle. He knew what would follow: he would wallow in self pity the whole night until he would eventually pass out and wake up the next morning with an awful headache. He would then…

The house was awfully quiet, he noticed. He hated when the house was so quiet, he now realised. Maybe that was why he subconsciously agreed with Hermione being there in the first place. God, was he really so drunk he couldn't even follow one train of thought? Hermione, oh, Hermione. How he wanted to be with her right now. But no, he was such an idiot as to actually agree to having his 'friends' over at his house. He had to apologise to Hermione, he had to tell her how he felt. And he had to do it now. He stood up and nearly fell over. He was drunk, alright. But this couldn't wait. He waved his wand and then disapparated.

* * *

Harry was just in the middle of falling asleep, or maybe he was already asleep, he didn't quite know, when he heard banging from downstairs. He frowned and sat up in the bed, groping for his glasses. Ginny stirred next to him. At first he thought that he might be imagining things, but when Ginny asked, mumbling, what the awful noise was, Harry knew that it wasn't only in his head. He frowned again, reached for his wand and started climbing out of bed. Immediately, Ginny was almost fully awake.

"Where are you going?" she asked her voice full of concern. Harry suspected that this would never go away, not after the War.

"Don't worry," he whispered pulling on his dressing gown. "It's nothing!" he whispered and bent down to kiss her.

"Be careful, Harry!"

"I will!"

What Harry saw on his doorstep certainly wasn't what he would've imagined. He wouldn't have imagined Malfoy ever standing on his doorstep, let alone in such a state that he was. _What did the guy do to himself? _Harry thought, frowning in disgust. Malfoy looked terrible, and even that was too soft a statement. His hair was dishevelled, the top buttons of his robes open and he smelled of stale Firewhisky awfully.

"God, Malfoy, I at least floo-called before showing at your doorstep!" he said. "What did you do to yourself? And what are you doing here, at three in the morning?" Harry asked incredulously. He doubted Malfoy could understand him, he could barely stand upright on his feet.

"Hermione-"

"Yeah, I know, I'm happy for Hermione too, but that doesn't mean I get hammered!"

"No, no, Hermione, I need to see her!"

"Well she's not here! She's at her new flat! And I wouldn't show up there in this state if I were you!"

"New flat?" Draco asked uncomprehensibly.

"Yeah, she didn't tell you? Wait a minute, so you don't know where she is and you want to talk to her is that right?" _I wonder what happened_, Harry mused. Hermione had shown up that evening a bit distressed but said it was nothing and now, a few hours later Malfoy shows up… "I'll tell you what, mate! I'll take you to Hermione's new place tomorrow morning, but now you'll let me take you back to the Manor and give you some sober-up potion and put you to bed, how about that?"

He didn't wait for Draco's answer, he just took hold of his robes and disapparated, thinking of the Manor drawing room. And to his surprise, he apparated in the Manor drawing room. _The wards aren't up. Strange. _Harry thought.

He sat Draco on one of the sofas and walked over to the liquor cabinet and took out the vial with the sober-up potion. It wasn't easy to miss with its distinctive purple colour. He then forced Malfoy to drink it and let him drop dead on the sofa, in a deep sleep. Just in case he evanesco-ed all the Firewhisky he could find before he disapparated.

* * *

At ten o'clock sharp the next morning, Draco stood, all prim and proper, dressed up to the nine, cologne and everything outside a little flat in the middle of Muggle London. He was nervous. His heart was beating rapidly and his hands were shaking. His throat was dry. He didn't know what he was going to say.

When he had woken up that morning, he could clearly remember his performance in front of Potter the night before. He nearly blushed. But that didn't put him off his task. Potter promised him the address and Draco would make sure he kept his word. He took another swig of sober-up potion just for good measure and then a long shower. He was done and standing outside Potter's office in an hour. And right now he felt like he was going on his first date. Except he didn't have a flower.

He sighed and rang the doorbell. Almost immediately the door opened and behind it was Hermione. The first thing he noticed was how big her pregnant bell was. Then again, she had been wearing robes all the times he had seen her in the past month, presumably to cover her 5-month bump, which she now wasn't wearing. The second thing he noticed was how beautiful she was. Her hair was tied in a bun and there was one stray lock hanging into her face. Draco felt a very-hardly-resistible urge to push the lock behind her ear and kiss her.

"Yes?" she said, her voice betraying no emotion.

He looked into her eyes. They were neutral and a beautiful shade of chocolate brown. "I… I… I just wanted to tell you that-"

"Well?"

"You forgot Ronnie!" he finally spat out. He immediately wished he hadn't said that. Her face expression turned from neutral to cold.

"You can keep him, I don't want him!" Her words hurt like frostbites. When he didn't answer, she looked at him expectantly. "Is that all?"

When he didn't respond she started closing the door. He caught her by the hand. "Wait! I-" He looked into her eyes again, desperate. And suddenly he heard her voice inside his head. _Find that door and open it! You only have to find that door! _And suddenly he knew what to do. He took one more step and their lips met. Hers were soft and sweet and tasted, strangely, of apples. His were at first tense, as was his whole body, but as she returned the kiss, he melted.

He felt Hermione smile. As they made a pause to take a breath she whispered, "I love you too!"

**So? Happy now, my dear friends (you know who I'm talking about, right, C? ;) )? If you still don't understand, then I'll give you a hint. What do kissed mean to Hermione (look at chapter 5!)**

**Epilogue in 2 days!**


	11. Epilogue

**Hi. Here it is- the final chapter of the story. You don't know how glad I am to be finally able to get rid of it... But don't worry, you who like my writing, I am working on two projects right now, both involving characters from Harry Potter, one I'll be posting once I have the first chapter, for the other, it being my pet project, you'll have to wait till its complete - unless I change my mind. **

**But right now, enjoy the last part of this one. :) R&R! Thank you!**

**_.: 4 or 5 months later :._**

Draco smiled as he looked into the eyes of the child Hermione was holding.

"At least now we know who his father is!" Hermione whispered. Draco looked up and kissed her tenderly, smiling. She was beautiful even though her hair stuck to her head in a dishevelled bun, there were circles under her eyes and you could still see the pain of childbirth in the lines of her face- for no matter what potions and magic the wizards tried, they still couldn't overcome the painful opponent that childbirth was.

Yes, there wasn't any doubt as to whose child it was. He had unmistakably platinum blond hair and steel-grey eyes. Draco felt warm at the heart. He finally had a son with a woman he loved. "He's beautiful!"

"Yes he is," Hermione agreed. Draco had promised to take care of her and the baby- and Rose and Hugo of course- after they had finally gotten together, but Hermione was nevertheless relieved that the child was his. "What shall we name him? What about Pacificus? In honour of Gryffindor and Slytherin finally finding their peace!" she said with a little smile playing on her lips.

"No. I want to end this pathetic tradition with names ending in –us. My father is dead and with him is broken the pure-bloodedness of this family. God, he must be turning in his grave!" Draco chuckled and kissed Hermione again. "Yes, I wonder what he would say on your advice to find the door and open it…" his voice trailed off.

"Well, it worked!" Hermione pointed out.

"Yes it did…" They looked at each other for a long time, remembering the feel of their first kiss.

Hermione eventually broke the silence. "What about Dario, then?"

"No, that's way too Italian. I don't like Italians! They're too… passionate!"

Hermione smiled. "Don't you like passion?" she taunted.

"To a certain extent, yes. But not too much!"

"How terribly British of you!" Draco raised one eyebrow. "What about Sebastian?"

Draco contemplated it and then smiled broadly. "Sebastian. Yes, it suits him." Draco looked up and kissed Hermione again. "Perfect. There's one more perfect thing I have for you, though!" he said and then pulled something out of his robes. It was a small black velvet box. Hermione's eyes widened. Draco opened it. Inside was a ring. A ring with a big red stone in the middle.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "A ruby?" she whispered, mesmerized by the stone's shine.

"No. A red diamond. One of the rarest gemstones. In silver. In honour of Gryffindor and Slytherin finally finding their peace!" he quoted her. "Hermione, will you be my wife?" he whispered as he leaned closer to her.

"I will!" She answered and felt the ring sliding onto her finger. Their lips met in a sweet and loving kiss. They only stopped when their son started wriggling uncomfortably between them.


End file.
